


Subjective Assessment

by walkandtalk



Series: Scientific Inquiry [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Kid Fic, M/M, Romance, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:56:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 33,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkandtalk/pseuds/walkandtalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All relevant data suggest the odds are against Spock and Kirk, but even a promising young Vulcan scientist can see that there are immeasurable forces at work here.</p><p>A series of moments that test the hypothesis, set between the final chapter and the epilogue of Objective Data.</p><p>Now translated <a href="http://www.movietvslash.com/thread-180366-1-1.html">into Chinese</a> by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/monicael/pseuds/monicael">monicael</a></p><p>Now translated into French: <a href="https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12121560/1/Subjective-Assessment">by Emily Bright</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. T minus 124 days 5 hours 23 minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now translated [into Chinese](http://www.movietvslash.com/thread-180366-1-1.html) by [monicael](http://archiveofourown.org/users/monicael/pseuds/monicael)

“It’s not going to bite you,” Jim cajoled.

Senik stared at the glove as if he was analyzing a complex math equation.  “I am aware this is manufactured recreational equipment and not capable of mastication.  I do not understand its purpose.”

“You catch the ball with it,” Jim said.  “Are you left or right handed?”

“As well as being perfectly symmetrical, Vulcans are ambidextrous,” Senik replied.

Jim rolled his eyes.  “Good.  Well, I need the left handed mitt, so you can take the right handed one.  Just slip it on, and hold it up.”  Senik complied and watched as Jim backed up a few meters and engaged a the portable batting cage forcefield around them.  “Just keep your eye on the ball,” Jim instructed and threw the ball in a gentle motion toward Senik, which ended up hitting the boy in the shoulder.

Senik stared at Jim, not bothering to pick up the ball by his feet.

“Why didn’t you catch it?” Jim asked.

“Your instructions where to watch the ball.  I was unaware of any additional rules to this game.”

Jim looked over to where Spock was lounging under a tree, observing the entire exchange.  Lounging was a bad word, as Jim’d never seen someone look so stiff sitting in the grass in the shade.  “Care to join us?” Jim asked, still annoyed that Spock had assured him that the group outing was a good idea, and promptly abandoned Jim to try to teach Senik something about Terran recreation.

Spock unfolded his long legs and stood obligingly.  “Perhaps Senik would be more comfortable with learning how to use a bat.”

Jim eyebrows shot up.  “Are you volunteering?”  Spock merely nodded.

Senik glanced at the sports equipment bag that Jim had brought with him to the park.  “I was not aware that animals were involved in baseball.”

Jim smiled.  “Bat like a baton,” he explained and opened up the case and pulled out a wooden baseball bat and offered it to Spock.  He expertly grasped the base and demonstrated a swing in the air.

“It is a matter of simple physics,” Spock said to Senik.  Jim watched, wary of Spock’s knowledge of baseball.  Jim pitched Spock a slow ball and the Vulcan easily hit it high into the forcefield behind Jim.  Senik nodded thoughtfully and took the offered bat from Spock, who then retreated to stand next to Jim.

“I spent a semester at an Earth middle school during my father’s diplomatic mission on Earth.  Physical education was compulsory,” Spock said before Jim could ask.

“Is there anything you aren’t good at?” Jim asked wryly.

“Painting,” Spock admitted.  “Most forms of dance.”

“Great, we’ll do that on the next outing.  I can’t have Senik thinking that you are the best at everything,” Jim declared.  He pitched another slow ball to Senik and had to duck when the ball went speeding toward his head.

“Hey!” he shouted when the ball whizzed past his right ear.  “Watch it, you aren’t supposed to be aiming for me.”

Senik blinked in confusion.  “Cadet Kirk, you were aiming for me during our last training exercise, so I had assumed the rules were similar.”

Jim sighed then smiled.  He doubted that baseball would ever been the next great Vulcan past time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logicians, anyone? I loved those Vulcans with their little IDIC baseball hats! :-)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. T Minus 97 days 19 hours 42 minutes

When Spock entered his home after work, he was unsurprised to hear Jim’s voice somewhere within the house.

“... until graduation, but that’s months away,” Jim voice rang from within the living area.

“I don’t think we need to wait that long,” a familiar voice replied, compelling Spock to forgo slipping off his boots and make a beeline into the living area where Jim was hunched over a communication console.  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I didn’t think you’d- oh hey Spock, you got here just in time,” Jim said turning around, an unidentifiable expression on his face.  “Look who comm’ed me.”

Spock peered over Jim’s shoulder to see Amanda Grayson waving up at him from the screen.  “Hello, dear.”

“Mother, it is gratifying to see you,” Spock said, a touch of illogical anxiety settling near his ribs.

“I decided it was finally time to talk to the young man who has been monopolizing all your time,” Amanda said warmly.  “You didn’t mention Jim was such a promising cadet.”

His mother was a skilled linguist, an ambassador’s wife, and incredibly adept in saying exactly what needed to be said at any point in time.  Even Spock could interpret that statement clearly.

_You haven’t been calling.  I found out what was going on, and was forced to take matters into my own hands.  Why are you dating a student?_

Spock visibly flinched from the veiled rebuke while his mother continued.  “I was just telling Jim that your father and I haven’t made the trip to Earth since your own graduation, and it was time that we make a visit.”

Spock had to squelch the urge to point out that there had been nothing of import to necessitate a visit all the way to Earth, nor was there any set intervals of visitation that would indicate an impending or overdue visit.  The illogical sense of unease near his ribs moved to wrap around his stomach as he met Jim’s blue eyes staring at him evenly.

“Are you free for Thanksgiving, Jim?” Amanda asked.  Jim kept his eyes on Spock a moment longer and then turned back to the screen with his wide, easy smile.

“I don’t have plans.  I would love to meet you and your husband.”

Amanda returned the smile with genuine warmth.  “Wonderful.  We will arrange the transport and should be there within the week.  Spock, we will message you with the details.”

Spock raised his hand in ta’al and Jim waved a cheery goodbye.

As soon as the screen went blank Jim spun around and leveled Spock with the same inscrutable look.

“Well, this should be fun,” Jim said.

Whether the statement was meant as hyperbole, sarcasm, in sincerity or a flat out lie, Spock never asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm delighted to "see" so many people from the last story, your comments and kudos make me do happy dances. I love reading your thoughts!


	3. T Minus 94 days 10 hours 53 minutes

For the first time in two weeks, Spock and Senik broke their morning fast without the presence of their human.

“Where is Jim?” Senik asked.  It was an unusual social rule of the boy’s that he would now only address James Kirk as Jim, so long as he was out of the room.  Which was rarely.  Spock set his tea down an exhaled quietly.

“He left for his dormitory shortly after you retired for the evening,” Spock said, not caring to elaborate.

Senik was not to be deterred.  “This is irregular behavior.  What instigated this change?”

Spock narrowed his eyes, suspicious that Senik was possibly conducting another covert analysis of his life choices.  “Unknown.”

“Have you had an argument?” Senik asked.  At Spock’s silence, the boy elaborated.  “I have read in numerous texts that human relationships often encounter times of communicative inefficiency, known as the marital spat or tiff.  Relational discord often occur when one or both parties fail to outline their-”

“It was a simple difference in opinion,” Spock said, borrowing a phrase his mother sometimes used.  It was not lost on Spock that she used the phrase where she and Sarek were experiencing their own _times of communicative inefficiency_.  “He thought it efficient to take his rest at his own room.”

“You will need to apologize,” Senik said solemnly.

Spock felt a spark of annoyance and turned his attention to the scrambled eggs on his plate.  He never thought to prepare scrambled eggs until Jim.   _He never thought about a great many things until Jim_.  Which was probably the crux of the issue at hand.  “As the point of disagreement did not involve you, nor were you present for the verbal exchange, I fail to see how you arrived at the conclusion that I was at fault.”

Senik leaned back, as if satisfied.  “It was a logical conclusion.”


	4. T Minus 94 days 2 hours 11 minutes

Jim sat in the astrometrics processing lab of the Starfleet Headquarters library slouched over a desk, reading planetary surveys of prewarp civilizations of the alpha quadrant.  He was tired from lack of sleep.  He was cranky from lack of food.  He was frustrated because the words on the screen kept swimming in his brain because his attention kept drifting to the heated words of last night.

_**Are you ashamed of us?** _

_**Not ashamed, no.** _

Before he could let those memories fester and take over again, the object of his ire appeared in the lab doorway.

Jim gave him the once over, always appreciative of his lover’s figure in his instructor blacks.  Spock looked tense, hands folded behind his back.  “Hello,” Jim said simply, not changing his posture.  If Spock came to grovel, he damned well better work for it.

“Jim,” he returned in greeting.

**_Jim, our relationship is our own._ **

**_It’s ours, but I didn’t think it was a state secret.  I think I merit a mention in passing to your parents._ **

**_There is no correlation between your value and the topics of conversation I have with my parents.  I was endeavoring to keep our relationship a private matter until the appropriate time._ **

**_Well, we wouldn’t want to upset your projected timetable on this relationship.  Let me know how many years I have to wait until you can start socializing with my friends, for a change.  Would that before or after you allow me to code into your place, so I don’t have to wait outside like a puppy for Senik or you to arrive at the end of the day?_ **

“I thought your shift terminated at this time,” Spock said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the area, several meters in front of the help desk.

“They asked me to cover for an extra couple of hours,” Jim replied.  

“I see,” Spock said, his voice deep with some undefined emotion.  “May I visit you once your shift has ended?”

Jim gestured to the empty room.  “Say your piece, it’s not like I’m terribly busy here.”

Spock glanced around the empty room and capitulated.  “I came to apologize,” Spock said.  “I should not have said what I said.”

**_I am dissatisfied with this conversation._ **

**_Dissatisfied?!  Well, maybe we should just end it._ **

**_That may be best._ **

**_Fine!_ **

A stifling silence descended and Spock stared at Jim intently as if measuring his demeanor against the complex math equations in his head.  He finally strode forward and approached the desk.

“Jim, upon reflection of our words last night, I realize perhaps I may have misinterpreted something-- a great many things-- you said.  Are we still in a romantic relationship?”

Jim blinked owlishly.  “Yes, I thought so.”

Spock released a long breath that must have been holding, an odd show of emotion of his somewhat stoic boyfriend.  “I didn’t want to break up,” Jim said softly.  “I just wanted some time to think alone.”

“You found the temporary separation useful?” Spock asked.

Jim’s lip quirked down in a frown.  “Not particularly.”

“Perhaps we could attempt communicating again,” Spock suggested hopefully.  Jim gave a small smile and nodded, and Spock took that as encouragement to start.  

“I now understand that my reluctance to speak of our relationship to my family was directly related to my own cultural expectations of formal relationships.  I did not wish to present you as my romantic partner until we agreed upon an engagement.  We are currently in a period of courtship, and termination at this stage is common among Humans.  If I was to endure the dissolution of our relationship, I wished to do so privately, as not to disappoint my parents.”

“So, you didn’t want your parents to know if you got dumped,” Jim translated.

“It would cause them much anxiety,” Spock added.  “As it did the last time.”

Jim frowned, and thought back on the story Spock once told him of the ill-fated childhood engagement to T’Pring, which never quite made it to the altar.  Such an odd Vulcan hang-up.

“If this, or my poor attention to your social needs, caused you pain in any way, I offer my most sincere apologies.  I would be amenable to socializing with your friends, as this is important to you,” Spock said.  His earnest expression sent a pang of guilt through Jim.

“Then I need to ask forgiveness too,” Jim said.  “I shouldn’t have said those things either, not out of frustration, anyway.  I never told you anything was bothering me, and I shouldn’t expect you to be a mind reader.”  At Spock’s quirked eyebrow, Jim added, “or expect you to use your mind reading abilities on me without my permission.”

“Your apology is accepted,” Spock said, hands still clasped behind his back.  “I have brought a token of my apology,” he said, finally bringing his hand forward, a small wooden box resting in his hands.  “It would do me great honor if you would accept.”

If Jim’s heart somehow beamed into his throat for a moment, he felt it was justified.  It did look like one of _those_ boxes, after all.  Jim quashed that thought, and accepted the little box.  He opened the lid to find a shiny silver key, the old kind Humans once used to lock doors.  He looked up at Spock in question.

“The token is merely symbolic in nature.  I hypothesized that you would appreciate the sentiment,” Spock said, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

“You’re giving me the key to your place?” Jim asked.  Spock nodded.

Jim beamed and grabbed Spock’s uniform lapels to drag him into an enthusiastic kiss.

“You are adorable,” Jim murmured.

Spock raised an eyebrow at this, but did not comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving fun times ahead!
> 
> Comments, kudos, thoughts, concerns, happy dances: all welcome.


	5. T Minus 81 days 14 hours 21 minutes

Senik stood at Jim’s elbow, watching the uncoordinated movements of the knife as it mutilated yet another tuber.

“You are still cutting them unevenly.  The pieces will not cook at the same rate,” Senik informed him again again.

Jim turned to Senik, brandishing a knife at him, wearing a bright orange apron with _Mr. Good Looking is Cooking_ inexplicably emblazoned across the front.  “My job, my way,” Jim informed him.  “Even if it’s inefficient and it turns out disgusting and they hate me for it.”  He turned back and started to vigorously chop the potatoes slightly more symmetrical shapes.

“A poor opinion of undercooked root vegetables is unlikely to create a correspondingly negative opinion of you,” Senik said, attempting to reassure him.  He had deduced that the pending visit of Spock’s parents was causing Jim an unusual level of anxiety.  “It is merely a side dish.”

As he was wont to do, Jim quirked a half smile and ruffled Senik’s hair.  Senik immediately smoothed it back into a presentable condition which made Jim smile wider.

“Is this part of a traditional Thanksgiving meal?” Senik asked, watching as Jim added the pieces of potatoes into a pot of cold water.

“Mhmmm... mashed potatoes.  Never really had a traditional Thanksgiving myself, so it’ll be a new experience for the both of us.  Do you think the butter and salt go in before or after the potatoes are boiled?” Jim asked absently, then shrugged and turned on the induction heating coil of the stove top.  “My mom wasn’t much of a cook, so she relied on replicators and take out a lot.”

“That would explain your lack of culinary skills,” Senik acknowledged.  

“If you can’t make helpful comments, be quiet,” Jim warned again.  Senik took a half step back, and out of the way as Jim rummaged through cabinets for bowls and containers.  Five minutes later, Senik could stay silent no longer.

“I find that I must point out you--”

“Not helpful Senik…” Jim warned, frantically sifting flour into a pan.

“I understand you wish to complete this endeavor independently, but I find it pertinent to inform you that-”

“Do you smell something?” Jim asked suddenly.

“- your casserole has been smoldering for the past seven minutes,” Senik informed him.

Jim dropped the sieve of flour and a cloud of dust descended on the kitchen.  Jim rushed to the oven and pulled out a smoking dish.  Senik turned on the emergency ventilation system, clearing the cloudy air quickly.

“I apologize,” Senik said.  “I had previously assumed your meal preparation skills were adequate for baking and you had meant to serve a dish with an excess amount of carbon.”

Jim groaned and rubbed his face.  “What are the odds of maintaining Spock’s parent’s good opinion if I ruined the entire meal?”

Senik stared at the charred remains of the casserole and did a few mental calculations.  “Perhaps you should devise an alternative solution for the traditional Thanksgiving meal.”


	6. T Minus 81 days 13 hours 58 minutes

“All arriving passengers proceed to terminal seven.  Elok’a smirno no lwirtep pe’i.  Sasashas sesh shashill shases.  Motok pok tok tikok’tu wik nok…”

Amanda stood on the platform with Sarek, picking out the dialects as a master violinist would notice the quality of the instrument being played.  Not a skill she still honed, but it was like riding a bicycle, she once told her husband, although he could not quite grasp the reference (Vulcan kinesthetic skills being what they were).

She spotted Spock a moment before he saw them.  He looked as a boulder in a river, a still figure against the rush of passengers.

 _How young he looks._  As soon as she thought it, Spock’s gaze found hers and she smiled softly in greeting.  They took the few steps across the concourse and met, exchanging the traditional Vulcan greeting, Spock’s fricatives and glottal stops inherent of the same elegant accent as his diplomat father, something he had learned, replacing the thick provincial Shi’kahr accent of his childhood.

“You look well,” Amanda said, mostly out of habit.

“My appearance has not changed since our last communication two days ago,” Spock said, as was his habit.  Without asking, Spock took their bags and led them to the private transport.

Accustomed to her family’s penchant for bluntness, Amanda immediately broke the silence as they were speeding toward Sausalito.  “Where is your young man?”

“He is preparing the Thanksgiving meal at my residence,” Spock said.

Amanda raised her eyebrows.  “He can cook too?  I haven’t had a Terran Thanksgiving since before I met your father.  I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

Spock’s lips pouted a fraction, a mirror expression of Sarek when he was uncomfortable.

“He’s nervous,” Amanda supplied.  Spock made no movement to confirm, but it was just as well.  She knew her Vulcan men well enough to interpret the non-expression.

“I fail to see what would cause such an illogical response,” Sarek said, finally joining the conversation.  Amanda hid a smile behind one hand and moved the other over her husband’s in a gentle touch.  Vulcan were reported to have eidetic memory, but even they were at times selective in their recollections.  It seemed like yesterday she was a young woman, tucking herself into Sarek's side on a shuttle headed for Vulcan.

_How soon they forget._

The transport stopped on a quiet lane in front of a ranch home surrounded by bushes and trees, giving it a lush look, so foreign to their barren estate on the outskirts of Shi’kahr.  Spock led the way, their minimal luggage in hand, and was about to key into the door when it opened and her young nephew popped his head out, blocking the doorway.

“Toz’ot Sarek, Ezyet Amanda, live long and prosper,” Senik greeted, not budging from his place at the door.

“You are blocking our path,” Spock pointed out.

“Cadet Kirk is not ready,” Senik said.  “He is still preparing.”

“It is of no concern if the meal is not complete.  My parents will take the opportunity to rest.”

“Cadet Kirk has insisted that is of the most importance that they do not enter until the appropriate moment,” Senik said, squaring his shoulders as if Spock would push him aside.

“Perhaps we would take a moment to analyse the landscaping used here,” Sarek said, gesturing to the vegetation leading to the house.  Both Amanda and Spock raised an eyebrow at the elder Vulcan.  “I have taken an interest in tropical and arid flora,” Sarek said serenely, as if he always took time out of his efficient day to stop and smell the roses, so to speak.

Spock merely nodded and Senik used the opportunity to close the door firmly.

“I apologize for Senik’s illogical behavior,” Spock said, he and Sarek hovering over a tiny hybrid palm tree that was blooming orange blossoms the size of cotton balls.

“No offense is taken.  My son, you would be wise not to interrupt and catch your Mr. Kirk unprepared.  The negative emotional consequences are often easily avoided, if you understand Human nature,” Sarek said sagely.

This time, Amanda did nothing to hide her smile.  What a wise man she had married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to post this earlier, but I suddenly realized that this would be so much better from Amanda!POV
> 
> I love Amanda/Sarek, and I'm looking for any good fic recommendations, if anyone has any :-) I think I'd like to try to write it sometime.
> 
> Next chapter: James T. Kirk doesn't believe in no-win dinners.


	7. T minus 81 days 13 hours 4 minutes

After 7.3 minutes of observing the vegetation of Spock’s front yard, Senik appeared at Sarek’s elbow to announce that they were welcome into the house.

James Kirk stood in the living room area, hands behind his back, an easy smile of his face that.  He was tall for a Human, but barely came up to Sarek's nose.  His wide blue eyes darted between Sarek and Amanda, but otherwise he was the picture of serenity.  He greeted them with a passable ta’al and a fair pronunciation of the Vulcan greeting, which Sarek returned.  He quietly observed as his wife cooed over Senik and made illogical guesses as to his gain in height (“merely four point eight centimeters, Ezyet Amanda, within normal limits for a male of my age”).  She then turned to James Kirk and shook his hand, commenting on his pleasing aesthetic qualities and the scent of the food (Sarek detected the faint scent of charred quinoa, but opted to not comment on this).  He had long understood these were common, if not expected pleasantries, among Humans, but could never find it within himself to say such things.  That was Amanda’s talent.

“I should let you rest, Ms. Grayson,” James Kirk said.  “I’m sure we can keep this food warm for you when it’s ready.”

“Nonsense, James, and call me Amanda,” she said warmly.

“Please call me Jim.  Only my mother calls me James, and only when I’ve deserved it,” he quipped, and his wife’s tinkling laughter filled the room.

“Just let me change into fresh clothes,” Amanda said, taking Sarek’s arm.  “I’m anxious to try what you’ve prepared for us.”

James Kirk merely smiled enigmatically and Spock took their bags down a short hallway to the first door where a serviceable study had been turned into guest quarters for their visit.

“I trust you will find your accommodations comfortable,” Spock said.

“I have no reason to doubt you would provide us with anything less than sufficient,” Sarek said.

Spock merely nodded, and left Sarek and Amanda to sort their few belongings.  They would be staying only two nights, not nearly long enough, but Sarek was needed in a Tellarite-Vulcan dispute near the Vulcan mining outpost.  While he would never say so, her presence often promoted benevolence of the suspicious Tellarite ambassadors.  His wife had, what she would call, a “knack” for such things.

“He seems quite friendly,” Amanda mused quietly, rummaging through her luggage.  Sarek merely hummed, content to reserve judgement.

Ten minutes later they were all seated at the table with colorful and aromatic dishes laid out on the table in a manner Amanda had introduced to him as “family style.”  

Sarek stared at the vegetarian feast on the table and raised an eyebrow at the bowl his wife passed him.  “I am unfamiliar with this Thanksgiving dish.  Mr. Kirk, what do you call it?”

“Chow mein,” James Kirk supplied.  “Just like my mother used to make.”

“Fascinating,” Sarek said, accepting an “egg roll” from Spock.  Sarek was only familiar with a few Human dishes his wife preferred.  In particular, pizza made with Vulcan fungi and “what almost passed for cheese if you closed your eyes” was a favorite of hers.

Dinner passed with unusual chatter.  James Kirk and Amanda struck up conversation about mountain climbing, Spock and Sarek spoke at length about the Enterprise itinerary, and Senik sat quietly eating wontons and watching the group.  Sarek had the most peculiar feeling, as if the young boy was calculating Sarek’s average length of utterances.

At the conclusion of the meal, Senik passed out curious confections with little paper messages inside.

“You know, Jim,” Amanda said suddenly, “I wasn’t aware that fortune cookies were part of Thanksgiving.”

“It’s a little known fact,” the man said solemnly.  “They were invented by the pilgrims on the Mayflower.”

“Oh, I must have forgotten,” she said, and winked.  Sarek filed his observation of the conspiratorial expression away for later questioning and looked down at his own paper message.

_A catastrophe is on the horizon._

Most incomprehensible.


	8. T Minus 79 days 9 hours 22 minutes

Growing up, there were several unsaid rules in the House of Sarek.  

Once Spock’s half brother left, the name Sybok was never mentioned in front of Spock’s father.  

If Spock’s mother shed tears, no one was to comment.  

Birthdays were celebrated, although the unfortunate hats were dispensed with after Spock’s seventh birthday.

There were others, of course.  One in particular was Amanda’s insistence that they travel and participate in the ritualistic “seeing you off.”  Sarek could offer no particular reason why she insisted that they see the shuttle leave, when saying farewells at the house served a similiar purpose, but after three decades, once could stop questioning the practice and merely anticipate it.

So it was that after fourty seven hours since the Improvised Thanksgiving Feast (as Jim later dubbed it), they were gathered on a shuttle bay platform to see Sarek and Amanda off to the Xepsi system.

“It was nice to meet you, dear,” Amanda said to Jim.  Amanda had expressed a fondness for Jim on several occasions during the visit.  While parental approval in and of itself was illogical, the continued harmony of his family unit with the addition of a potential mate had a positive effect on Spock’s outlook on his continued romantic relationship.

Sarek stepped forward and raised his hand in ta’al.  “Life long and prosper, Mr. Kirk.  I entrust you will find yourself well placed at the start of your career with Starfleet.”

“Yes, thank you, Ambassador.”

“I remind you again, I have given you my name,” Sarek said, and Jim grinned.

“Thank you Sarek, safe travels.”  The elder Vulcan nodded and turned to Spock and Senik to offer the traditional formal farewell and walked into the shuttle without any further exchange, as was expected.

Amanda pet Senik’s hair and inquired yet again if he needed any sweaters (“I have researched the weather and general climate considerations for the upcoming winter season, Ezyet Amanda.  I am certain I have procured sufficient clothing.”).  When she was done, she turned to Spock and brought delicate hands to the collar of his shirt and fidgeted with it needlessly.

It wasn’t until that moment that Spock realized it was the closest thing to a hug that Amanda ever initiated, now that he was an adult.  Before he understood the urge, he wrapped his arms under his mother’s shoulders.  He heard the catch in her breathing and a soft sigh as her arms came up around his shoulders to reciprocate.  When he withdrew there were tears sparkling in her eyes.

“You have grown up so much,” she mused, surreptitiously wiping her cheeks.

Spock tilted his head, as if considering her statement.  “As I am uncertain as to the time frame in which we are comparing my growth, I am uncertain if the statement is correct.  As you have raised me, I will defer to your good judgement.”

Amanda gave a watery laugh.  “You have your father’s sense of humor.”

“Vulcans do not joke,” Spock reminded her.

“No, but perhaps my son does,” she said, raising her hand once more to adjust his collar.  “Try to keep that one around,” Amanda whispered, gesturing covertly to Jim.  “I think he may be good for you.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, but did not deny her observation.  “As you say, mother.  I wish you safe travels.”

“Goodbye, dear.  Stay safe,” she said, and with one last wave, she turned and followed Sarek into the waiting shuttle.  The doors finally closed and Jim sidled up to Spock, their hands brushing against each other, Senik shifting to mirror their attention to the shuttlecraft.  The three of them watched in silence as the it took off and was an indiscernible speck of black in the San Francisco sky.

“Where to now?” Jim asked.  Senik turned his head to look back at Spock expectantly.

“Home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Talltree-san for the idea to reveal the other's fortunes. These all came from an random fortune cookie message generator (trying for authenticity here!)
> 
> Senik: All progress occurs because people dare to be different.  
> Spock: Stop searching forever. Happiness is just next to you.  
> Amanda: Nothing Shows A Man's Character More Than What He Laughs At.  
> Jim: Save the whales. Collect the whole set.
> 
> (I kid you not, almost choked when I saw that fortune for Jim... please tell me someone else thought it was hilariously appropriate)


	9. T minus 44 days 22 hours 09 minutes

“Are you certain that this is necessary?” Senik asked (illogically) for the third time.  The poor kid really couldn’t handle the cold that came with the middle of the night in December in the Bay area.

“Yes, it’s completely necessary.  Watching it as a hologram or on a newsfeed is deficient in… sensory input,” Jim finished lamely.  “And I did the calculations, this has got to be one of the best seats in Sausalito.”

Senik raised an eyebrow, a near perfect imitation of his cousin.  “As you say.”

Jim huffed a laugh and rubbed his hands together and glanced to his left.  Spock was bundled up with a regulation winter jacket on complete with fuzzy orange earmuffs.  Senik had opted to wear one of Jim’s scarves looped around his head and ears, making him look like a mummy with argyle print.  Jim was surprised that they agreed to scale house and camp out on Spock’s roof for the sake of yet another Human ritual.

Jim looked down at the chronometer on Spock’s wrist.  “Ten… nine…”

“Why are you counting aloud?” Senik questioned.

“Shut up.  Five… four… three… two… one.  Happy New Year!” Jim said, and suddenly the sky was alight in a spectacular light show of old fashioned fireworks and holographic projections across the night sky over the bay.

Senik turned his solemn face to observe the light show, his face reflecting red, blue, and green light, his attention completely absorbed.  Jim turned back to the light show, content in the knowledge that even this particular little boy could appreciate this special display.

“So, do you have a New Years resolution?” Jim asked Spock, leaning back on his elbows.  Spock did the same, but somehow managed to look even less relaxed.

“I have not considered one,” the Vulcan admitted.  “Have you?”

“To get out in space and stay there,” Jim said.  “Optimally, with you.”

Spock nodded thoughtfully, and they resumed viewing the fireworks.  A moment later, without warning, Jim felt a finger tuck under his chin and pull him towards Spock’s lips for a brief kiss.

“What was that for?” Jim whispered, his eyes wide, all too aware of their young companion, sitting only a foot away.  Spock usually didn't "do" spontaneous displays of affection.

“That too, is tradition, is it not?” Spock asked.  Jim just smiled and tucked himself against Spock’s arm in reply.


	10. T minus 40 days 10 hours 31 minutes

“Mr. Senik, we have reviewed your proposal.  Your academic record is impressive and your appeal to the board was well designed and argued.  However, the department has decided to deny your request,” Commander Davis said, her PADD held out in front of her, not unlike a shield against the small Vulcan boy sitting quietly on the other side of her desk.

Senik didn't so much as blink.  “Might I inquire as to their reasons?”

“The classes you requested to take this semester are all reserved for students in the last semesters of the science track.  You are neither admitted as a cadet nor serving as part of an exchange program.  That, coupled with your age, makes you a poor candidate for these particular courses.”

“You have made exceptions in the past, in regards to minor status,” Senik pointed out, not moving an inch from his seat.

“On occasion we have admitted minors into the program as cadets, but never in a case such as yours,” she replied.  Senik’s expression did not change, not a hint of disappointment or anger or understanding or any expression was observable.  It was unnerving.  “We would encourage you to enroll in advanced theory lectures in the sciences, as well as consider the other departments’ course offerings.  When you are older, you may decide to enlist as a cadet and take advantage of all that Starfleet has to offer.  We have considered applicants as young as fourteen,” Davis added tentatively.

Suddenly, the boy stood and saluted her in the Vulcan way.  “Understood.  Thank you for your time, Commander.”

\---

Senik stepped out of the door, hearing it close and did not move.  Uncertain, he stood a moment until a voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“I take it that it didn’t go in your favor,” the voice said.  Senik spun around, surprised to see Jim leaning against a wall outside Commander Davis’ office.  Senik didn’t bother asking how the Human knew that he had an appointment with the department chair to discuss this semester course requests.  He hadn’t even discussed it with Spock.

“I calculated that the odds were 1073 to one that I would be allowed into the advanced classes,” Senik informed him.

Jim gave a low whistle.  “Why did you even bother?”

Senik narrowed his eyes.  “If I did not, the odds were considerably worse.”

The Human snorted in amusement.  “I swear, Spock is rubbing off on you.”  Senik's brow furrowed, trying to decipher the odd phrase, and Jim laughed outright.  “Yeah, definitely rubbing off on you.  You are both so literal sometimes.  Look, I have an idea how you can get into some of those classes.”  Without explaining, Jim started walking down the hallway.

“I have the appeal process.  The odds will not have improved,” Senik pointed out, but followed Jim anyway.

“Forget the appeal,” Jim said.  “What you need is a way to sneak into the back.”

“I do not understand,” Senik said, stepping into the elevator at the end of the corridor, and Jim guided them up two levels, to the instructors offices.  The pair walked down the hall until they were at the large office reserved for fourth-year cadets servings as instructor assistants.  Five cadets were working in office cubicles.  Upon Jim's greeting they popped their heads up past the dividers much like Vulcan sand ferrets.

“Hey, guys, meet Senik,” Jim announced.  Several of the cadets gave cheery greetings.  “This is Spock’s cousin,” he added, which got him several more enthusiastic greetings.  “Look, I have an idea.”

Senik noted that this phrase would often portend a series of highly unconventional decisions.  Decades later, he would compile a compendium of missions, maneuvers and diplomatic solutions that started with that phrase uttered James T. Kirk.  It would never be published, but was a preferred source of narrative for when Senik’s grandchildren clamored for “bedtime stories.”

This was the time that Senik spent part of a semester as one of the most well known persons on the Academy campus.  Almost every assistant on campus was willing to ‘babysit’ Spock’s cousin.  He sat in on no less than 14 different classes on and off and had limited access to three science labs.  In return Senik shared pages upon pages of analysis and notes on lectures to the over-worked assistant.

“It is unorthodox,” Spock commented over dinner, after he spotted Senik trailing after Cadet Uhura on her way to assist in a Suprasegmental Analysis lecture and had finally inquired how exactly Senik was spending his second semester, beyond “productively occupied.”

“This alternative enrollment has afforded me unique and varied experiences,” Senik said, knowing not to take Spock’s comment as any type of disapproval.

“Alternative enrollment,” Spock repeated slowly, his attention trained on the Human across the table.  “Your mannerisms have manifested within Senik’s psyche,” Spock said, much too lightly to be considered a rebuke.

Jim smiled serenely, twirling spaghetti on his fork.  “You know, I disagree.  I was just saying he’s becoming more and more like you.  It’s like he’s turning into a mini-Spock.”

“Illogical,” Spock and Senik replied simultaneously.

Jim snorted and the topic was immediately dropped.


	11. T minus 29 days 4 hours 13 minutes

“So, is she beautiful?” Jim asked wistfully.

“I am uncertain how to answer that question adequately,” Spock replied.  Jim called bullshit.  Even through the communication screen, separated by thousands of kilometers, he could see the humor in the other’s eyes.

“Is she aesthetically pleasing?” Jim clarified.  “Do her curves give you ideas?”  Jim wiggled his eyebrows with a grin, and Spock’s lips thinned, which Jim knew was a smile.  Of course Spock would never admit to understanding the colloquialism, which only made Jim grin wider.  “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“You are unlikely to find her equal,” Spock finally conceded.

Jim flopped backward on Spock's pillow, balancing the PADD on his stomach.  “God, I can’t believe you’re there,” he said.  “I spent twenty years trying to get the hell out of Riverside, and now I’d give anything to be there, seeing what you are seeing.”  Spock, Pike, and some of the other senior bridge staff were invited for a full tour of the ship as it spent its final days in the Riverside shipyard.

“The maiden training voyage is set in 41 days,” Spock offered.  They shared a look that needed no words, it was pure appreciation and eager anticipation for the best ship in the fleet.

“Can’t wait,” Jim said.  Although nothing was official, he’d gotten his informal meeting with Pike.  He was looking at a potential commission at the conn and maybe some experience in Ops, which Jim dubbed “fantastic” and Spock judged as “a logical and challenging opportunity” for one of his interests.

“I miss you,” Jim said idly, not wanting to end their transmission just yet, but unsure what else to say.  Spock was silent a moment longer than was comfortable, and Jim rushed to fill it, suddenly feeling ridiculous.  “It doesn’t seem right sleeping in your house without you.”

“I do not wish for you to feel unwelcome in my residence,” Spock said.

“I don’t,” Jim assured him, still feeling the awkwardness of his vulnerable moment.  “It’s just odd.  I’ll get used to it.”

Spock nodded throughtfully and Jim asked about the sensory arrays. This went on for a few more minutes until Jim finally couldn’t contain his jaw-cracking yawn.

“You are in need of rest,” Spock said, brows furrowing in concern.

Jim shrugged.  “Yeah, and I have a long day tomorrow.  I’ll see you in three days?”

“Sixty-eight point nine hours,” Spock corrected.

“Counting the minutes?” Jim asked playfully, knowing full well it was something Spock did regardless.

“It is comforting to note the passage of time, as your absence is felt most keenly,” he replied.

Jim felt a small piece of his heart melt for his logical and literal lover, and chidded himself for ever doubting the depth of Spock’s feelings.  He felt these things, but perhaps needed to say it a different way.  

“Have I ever told you how romantic you are?” Jim said.

Spock blinked.  "No, I do not believe you have."

"In sixty-eight point nine hours I will show you how much I appreciate that quality."

"Surely not at the transport terminal," Spock replied dryly, inferring Jim's intent.

That made Jim laugh.  "No promises."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting really close to the end of the countdown (not the end of the story)
> 
> Thank you dear readers, hope to post more bits this weekend!!


	12. T minus 21 days 6 hours 59 minutes

“... and that’s the last item on the agenda.  Engineering department will be debriefing with me at 1100 today, all other departments can expect to receive a schedule from Yeoman Rand by tomorrow.  You are dismissed,” Pike announced to the room of senior staff.  “Commander Spock, a word.”

Spock remained seated as the other officers filed out of the conference room.  When the room was empty, Pike grabbed a PADD and walked stiffly to the conference table.  His face was grave as he walked over to the chair opposite Spock and sat down.  He scrolled through the PADD for a moment, found what he was looking for, and handed it his First Officer.

“I wanted you to be the first to know.  Jim was cut from the crew roster.”

Spock glanced up in surprise, but quickly reined in his emotion, training his eyes back onto the screen, seeing the highlighted portions of text that would have flagged Jim immediately on the personnel list.  “He does not meet the requirements?”

“He’s missing a few competencies,” Pike said.  “Nothing he couldn’t finish as soon as his courses are complete, a couple Academy conducted away missions--”

“Those could be conducted while commissioned on the Enterprise,” Spock said.  “Away missions would be routine, and I am an instructor, after all.”

Pike stopped and gave Spock a long-suffering look.  “I already thought of that, but as you already know, you cannot assign marks to your own boyfriend.  And before you ask, there is no one aboard the Enterprise that has served as an instructor recently.  Apparently, not even I could sign off on them.”

Spock nodded, setting the PADD down.

“It wouldn’t be forever,” Pike said.  “He could rendezvous with us at the nearest starbase as soon as the command track competencies are complete.  It’d be a month’s delay, at most.”

Spock’s thoughts suddenly centered on the brief separation they endured during his inspection in Iowa.  Four days were enough to unsettle Spock’s mental order.  He could not accurately predict the effects of an entire month of separation, it could be tenuous at best.  Perhaps he should consult with his father, or Healers on Vulcan, surely the have been studies of the mental states of unbonded pairs--

“Do you have any questions, Commander?”

Questions?  Yes, he did, but was entirely unsure how to appropriately phrase his query.

_What was he going to tell Jim?_


	13. T minus 21 days 1 hour 14 minutes

Human social mores were complicated and rarely followed a discernable pattern of behavior.  Vulcan etiquette was, for the most part, logical.  When Spock asked a question, Senik answered it directly.  When Jim asked a question, at times they were “rhetorical” and not meant to be answered at all.  When Spock found something to be lacking in quality or execution, the responsible party was informed.  When Jim was unhappy, the resulting actions where… unpredictable.

One afternoon, Senik’s scheduled period to assist Cadet Quinn with the applied astrophysics lab was canceled, so he found himself standing outside Spock’s residence, watching Jim struggling to move a small boulder from the side of the house with his bare hands.  Jim was still wearing his cadet uniform, now covered in dust and dirt and bits of foliage, sweat dripping down his face despite the cool January weather.

“Cadet Kirk,” Senik greeted, watching the rock roll a meter forward and then fall heavily on the pristine lawn, “I was unaware you had plans for relandscaping.”

“No plans, it just struck me.  That bush was blocking the view outside.  Spock mentioned wanting to trim it, so I did it, and I got a little overzealous.”  Jim gestured to a stump that was once a blooming plant near the front of the house.  “Then I realized that without the bush, these decorative rock things needed to move.”

“Toz’ot Sarek voiced much appreciation for that particular specimen,” Senik said belatedly.

“Well, there’s another fuck up I need to apologize for.  Sorry,” Jim said immediately, looking a little sheepish.  “Don’t mind me, I’m just in a bad mood.”

Senik blinked, uncomprehending and unsure how to respond.

“I got some bad news,” Jim explained, “and I am trying to let off some steam.”

Senik nodded in comprehension.  “You are taking advantage of the many physical and mental benefits of physical exertion for Humans,” Senik inferred.

Jim snorted.  “Yeah, you could say that.  Not sure about the benefits for the yard.”

Senik surveyed the scene.  “It would seem your efforts have had a negative effect on its aesthetic qualities,” Senik shared.  “Perhaps you should divert your efforts to minimizing your impact to this quadrant of the lawn.”

Jim made a huffing sound of indeterminate emotion and started to struggle again with the rock.  “Cadet Kirk, would you appreciate my assistance?”

Jim stopped and turned to look at Senik.  “Sure, thanks.  Maybe we can get this done before Spock gets home and forbids me to do any home improvement projects.”

Senik set his bag on the walkway and with some effort was able to carry the landscaping rock to where the Vulcan Nightfire bush once grew.  Jim was still on his knees, staring at Senik.

“You’re strong for a little guy,” he said.

“My bone density and muscle composition at my age would make me approximately twice as strong as you are.”

Jim’s eyebrows shot up.  “Remind me never to challenge you or your friends to an arm wrestling match.”

"That would be wise, as most Vulcans would view the challenge as most vulgar,” Senik said, which made Jim grin.

They spent the next few minutes clearing the remains of the bush and moving another decorative rock.  

When it was finished, Jim sat back on his heels, wiping the sweat from his brow.  He suddenly spoke.  “In my rush to get get the hell off the planet, I forgot that I actually needed to _get off the planet_ and earn my Academy-approved away mission competencies.”

Senik was silent, again unsure of what to say.  There were so few and varied rules in Human etiquette related to commiseration, and Senik struggled with the concept of sympathy as it was, so he refrained from replying.  The Human did not seem to mind the lack of response, and continued.

“Got the memo today, I’m stuck for an extra 28 days until the Tangier takes a training mission.  An entire month wasted because of two little unchecked boxes.”

Still, Senik was unsure of what to say.  A Vulcan would suggest an alternate interpretation of the preceding events, offer benevolent instruction on how best to spend the additional 28 days, or say nothing at all.  However, after many months of observation, Senik was certain that there was one appropriate Terran sentiment that one would offer to another in a time of distress.

“That sucks balls.”

Jim’s head whipped back to Senik, his eyes wide and eyebrows elevated in an expression of surprise or fear.  Senik frowned, unsure of how his overture of sympathy was received.

“I apologize, was that the incorrect declaration?”

Jim immediately burst out laughing, falling backward onto the grass.  He howled, clutching his sides, as Senik watched in horrified fascination as liquid fell from Jim’s eyes to his cheeks.

“Jim?” Spock’s voice carried from the edge of the walkway.  Spock took three long strides to stand over Jim.  “Are you hurt?”  He turned to Senik.  “What has happened?”

When Spock asked a question, Senik answered it directly.  It was simple, logical, and oddly comforting.

“I do not know.”


	14. T minus 20 days 19 hours 27 minutes

“Well, that sucks balls,” Leonard McCoy declared after his best friend relayed the entire story.  Jim sprawled on the couch of their shared quarters, snorting into his beer, nearly choking on it.  “Seriously, couldn’t they just commision you without your promotion and get your competencies aboard the Enterprise?”

“I would need an approved Academy instructor,” Jim replied, after regaining his composure and draining his second beer and accepting another from his friend.  “The Enterprise only has one, and guess who’s dating him?”

Bones groaned in sympathy.  “Who knew all that responsible, upstanding, monogamous Vulcan sex would get you into bind like this?  Couldn’t you two just… call it quits for a few months?”  A dark look passed over Jim’s face, making Bones chuckle and hold up his hands in mock surrender.  “Nevermind!  Forget I suggested it.  Didn’t realize you were in that deep.”

“I’m not in deep,” Jim bit back.

“You’ve all but officially moved in, you’ve met his parents, and this is the first time I’ve seen you in weeks, outside our seven minute lunches.”

Jim looked uncomfortable.  “Bones, I know I’ve been a crap friend lately,” the blonde said, shooting the doctor his puppy look.  He rolled his eyes, dismissing the comment, and went on to make his point.

“You’re in love,” Bones accused, leaning back with his arms across his chest.  Just as he predicted, Jim immediately fell silent and took another long swig from his drink.  Despite being one of the most outgoing, affectionate, and loyal people Bones had ever known, he was about as emotionally vulnerable as an Orion clam when it came to romance.  “You want another?” he asked, standing up to refill his glass and grab another beer from the fridge.

“Probably shouldn’t,” Jim said, eyeing the fifth of whiskey in Bones’ hand and nodded when Bones picked up another glass for him.  “What was it like when you were in love with Jocelyn?”

“Best high in the universe,” the doctor said thoughtfully.  “With the hardest fall.”


	15. T minus 20 days 12 hours 15 minutes

Senik stood in the middle of cramped dormitory suite, contemplating his options.  Now that he had ascertained Jim’s whereabouts and health, he had two viable choices.  He could wake Jim (it was 0705, afterall, a perfectly reasonable time to awake) but the almost assured consequence was Jim’s vocal disapproval, as Jim would not immediately see the rationale behind Senik entering Jim’s Academy quarters without permission.  The Human was 85.943 percent more likely to react illogically before his cup of coffee.  He could also leave and wait outside until Jim walked out, but the lost time weighed against the critical nature of his visit...

Unfortunately, an unforseen third option option rendered the previous two options irrelevant.

“What in the Sam Hill are you doing?” a half dressed Doctor McCoy squawked from the doorway of a bedroom.

Senik turned to fully face the doctor.  “As I am unfamiliar with any individual named Sam Hill, I cannot answer.”  Jim made a noise from the couch, alerting Senik to his approaching wakeful state.

“Wake up, Jimmy.  Sisko’s here,” McCoy announced.

“My name is Senik,” he corrected.  McCoy shrugged and began rooting around the fresher, which seemed to be filled with a quart of orange juice, bottles of beer, and a tub of margarine.

“Senik?” Jim called, eyes blinking blearily around the tiny living area.

“I apologize for startling Doctor McCoy,” Senik said.  “However, I have come to find Cadet Kirk on a matter of great urgency.”

As Jim struggled to stand, his leg caught in an afgan and he tumbled onto the floor.

“Bleeding?” McCoy asked, not turning around from his position infront of the coffee pot.

“No,” Jim groaned, sitting up and shaking the blanket off of his legs.  “Just bruised and hungover.  What’s the urgent matter?”

“I have found a way for you to matriculate with the rest of your class,” Senik announced.  “After some research of the Academy and Stafleet bylaws, there are two options which I wanted to review with you.”

“You came all the way here, first thing in the morning, broke in to our rooms, just to tell him that?” McCoy groused, two cups of coffee in hand.  He pushed one into Jim’s hand, which was accepted with a groan.

“I came prepared with slides,” Senik said solemnly.

\---  13 minutes later ---

“As you can see, section 52 paragraph C highlights possible extraneous scenarios where the command track competencies could be filled and approved by qualified personnel,” Senik said, pacing the floor of the kitchenette, where he had rigged up a small projector to display the slides against the kitchenette cabinet doors.  Doctor McCoy and Jim sad side by side on the couch, watching intently, as Senik flipped to the next slide.  “Table F lists seven potential Federation worlds with starships that have reciprocal education agreements with Starfleet.  There are fourteen ships currently within the system that could potentially host Cadet Kirk before the Enterprise launches.”  Senik gestured for them to look at their PADDs, loaded with the appropriate information.

Jim eyes scanned the screen, following the tables and the references.  Before Senik could go on, he spoke up.  “This is brilliant.  It could really work.”  A smile started to spread across his face as paged through the supporting documents.

“You have seven pages of cited works,” McCoy commented suspiciously.  “How did you have time to make something as detailed as this?”

Senik puffed up a little by the offhand praise.  “Vulcans do not require as much sleep as humans.  Cadet Kirk often seeks alternative or creative solutions to various dilemmas.  I merely applied his methods to a new scenario and obtained similar promising results.”

“Well, this is amazing,” Jim said, standing up from the couch and dropped the PADD on the coffee table, still littered with empty beer bottles and stale pizza, and ran into the bathroom.  “Really brilliant, I’ve got to--” but Jim never finished explaining what he had to do, as the door closed and the sound of the sonic shower started.  Senik was left alone with with Doctor McCoy, still dressed in sleep attire, sipping his coffee and thoughtfully perusing Jim’s abandoned PADD.

“You said there were two possible solutions?” McCoy asked.

Before Senik could answer, Jim came rushing out of the bathroom, dressed in his cadet uniform and cleanly shaved.  “I got a hold of Pike, he said he was interested in hearing about this.”

Without warning, Jim grabbed Senik by the shoulders and dragged him into a hug.  “Thank you,” Jim whispered as Senik silently debated the appropriate position for his arms in such a display of Human commraderie.  Without further comment, Jim dashed out the door.

“Your second option?”  McCoy prompted again, shaking Senik out of his bewildered daze.He thought of his unopened file of slides labeled Starfleet Regulations Regarding Matrimony: A Logical Solution for Productivity and Wellbeing.

“I had thought my second solution was much more plausible, but as Cadet Kirk is so convinced of the efficacy of the first, I will concede to his judgement on the matter.”


	16. T minus 0 days 12 hours 34 minutes

Jim was surprised, in the months that he had taken Spock as a lover, that Spock never seemed to mind all the extra hours Jim spent sleeping.  He seemed to enjoy the ritual of preparing for bed, settling under the piles blankets that Jim insisted on.  While Jim fell asleep before and woke up after Spock, the Vulcan rarely left the bed until Jim was ready to start the morning.

Jim didn’t see the logic in staying in bed all night if you didn’t have to.  In less than a month, they would both be aboard the Enterprise in new separate quarters.  He wondered what Spock would want, if they would maintain their established pattern or if Spock would have other things he needed to do.

“I forgot to tell you, I switched shifts at the library so we can still go to that concert you were talking about,” Jim said, peeling off his pants and placing it in the hamper, something that was now finally a habit when he stayed the night.

Spock nodded in acknowledgement, setting aside the PADD he was reading and shifted further into the pillows as Jim joined him in bed.  Jim rested his head in the hollow near Spock's shoulder and wrapped an arm over the Vulcan's stomach.  He could feel the beats of Spock's heart in his side and was soothed by the gentle breathing.  Jim was blissed out, completely warm and content and would happily stay here forever.

"What are you thinking?" Jim asked, and then suddenly regretted it.  He had a girlfriend once who would ask that and it never ceased to annoy him.  Before Jim could say something to cover up his faux pas, Spock's chest rumbled with his answer.

"I am simultaneously thinking of tomorrow's lecture, potential conn officer replacements, and how to best reciprocate the sensation you created with your tongue earlier," he said dryly.

Jim pressed a smirk into Spock's chest and turned it into a kiss.  "That’s my secret.  So, conn replacements? Why?"

"Lieutenant McKenna is ill, possibly for an extended period," Spock said, idly running his fingers down Jim's spine in a pattern he cannot discern.  "Captain Pike has asked me to find a suitable temporary replacement by the end of the week."

Jim hummed in acknowledgement and threw a leg over Spock, tangling their limbs even further.  "Think about it tomorrow," he advised and searched for Spock's hand with his own. Spock captured it and brought the palm to his mouth for a gentle kiss.

"Goodnight Jim," he whispered.

"'Night, Spock.  See you in the morning."

Jim felt the faintest brush of long fingers against his cheek, detected just a faint whisper of contentment and comfort, before he slipped into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay for those reading in real-time, hope the three little chapters made up for it.
> 
> Here is the lull before the storm. Can't let it all be rainbows and unicorns!


	17. 0 days 0 hours 0 minutes

_I am losing her_ , the boy cried.   _I lost her._

It was the longest moment of Jim's life. When the figures finally materialized he could only see one person on the pad.  He almost fell to his knees in relief, only just able to remain upright long enough to propel himself past the milling engineers and the newly rescued guests.  Alive, alive and here.   Jim could see nothing but the anguish and pain in the other's face, but in an instant it was gone.

"Spock," Jim murmured, trying to make his way to him, but only managed to brush shoulders with the other man, who was already headed out the door.

“At your station, Commander,” Spock ordered in a clipped tone.  “We will need all senior officers on the bridge.”

“Aye, Captain,” Jim replied to no one in particular, as Spock had already left the transporter room.

 

_Meanwhile on Earth_

When Senik was able to open his eyes, it was dim and he could barely make out the sheet metal above him.  It took him a moment to realize he was laying on the ground and he looking up at the underside of a table.  And then that realization disappeared only to be replaced with blank unknowing, as if the knowledge had been lost in the wind.

A disembodied voice said something.  A hand touched his shoulder and Senik realized he must be shivering.  He did not reply or acknowledge.  He could not, he did not have the words to do so.  It was fascinating, if only Senik’s mind had been able to categorize and evaluate this biological and psychic phenomenon.  It was as if part of his neural pathways have been scorched like wildfire, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.  His physical senses were overwhelmed, unable to process the input.  Maybe he shook, cried out from the pain, or maybe he didn’t.  He simply did not know.


	18. Triage

He did not know how much time has passed, but was able to make sense of some of the changes to his environment.

The light had changed.  

The room was bright.  

Shapes of machines swam before his eyes, as if he was peering through meter-thick glass.  The ambient noises and smells did not make sense for many heartbeats until Senik identified hospital hesitantly.  Yes, this was a hospital.  He was lying in a hospital bed.  Senik tried to recall how he came to be in a medical facility, but his memory failed him.

Suddenly a hiss of a door opening alerted Senik, and a tall figure stalked into the room.  Senik tried to identify the figure, bits of sensory information swirled uselessly in his mind, and it was not until the soft finger grazed his psi points that he was able to think _Spock_.

Senik choked back a gasp.  Spock’s presence burned like fire for a moment, but then the physical sensation subsided and the scorched earth of his mind was soothed.  Spock traversed Senik’s tattered mind and the strands and sections that are left were strengthened and woven together.  It was if there had been an excision of Senik’s pyche and the hole left was finally being sutured.  Not until he was healed, did Senik realize what had been removed.

The meld complete, Senik looked up at Spock’s blank face and to the elderly Human doctor standing over the bed.  She grinned widely at Senik.

“Welcome back,” she said, most incomprehensibly.  Senik knew that he had not left the medical facility, but did not correct her.  He was still mentally reeling from the meld, adjusting to the new conditions of his mental faculties.  The doctor scanned him, nodding and murmuring about good readings and then looked at Spock, who was still silently staring at Senik, standing as a  sentinel on the other side of his hospital bed in perfect parade rest.

“I’ll just give you two some privacy,” she said and bustled out of the room.  It was a long moment before either spoke.

“They are all dead,” Senik finally said aloud.  It was illogical to speak aloud what his cousin already surely knew.  Ninety-seven percent of his extended family had perished somehow.  His mother, Sarek and Spock somehow spared, he could feel them distinctly where before they were part of a harmonious symphony of connections.

Spock nodded once, still standing above Senik’s bed, his hand still held in midair as if considering attempting a meld once more.  “The sudden deaths of so many Vulcans have caused emotional and psychic trauma to many.”  Spock dropped his hand to his side.  “I encourage you to meditate and organize your mind.”

He heard the words, but could not yet comply.  Senik blinked up at his cousin, finally able to catalogue Spock’s appearance.  He was bruised in many places and his blue science uniform shows signs of damage.

“You were in combat,” Senik deduced.  Spock was alive and standing, which answered the most important question, so he asked the next urgent question.  “Where is Jim?”

An uncomfortable look passed over Spock’s face for a fleeting moment, until it is schooled into a more stoic expression.  “He is currently at Starfleet headquarters.  He wished to inform you that he regrets not visiting at this time.”  Spock paused.  “Vulcan is no more.”

_Vulcan is no more._

Senik knew that his father, his bondmate, and most of his aunts, uncles, and cousins had suddenly perished, and the annihilation of Vulcan would explain this occurrence.  Part of his brain accepted this as fact, a logical antecedent, but another part was frozen in the sheer horror of it.  The impossibility of it.

_Vulcan is no more._

_Vulcan is no more._

“Your mother is en route to Earth,” Spock continued softly.  “She will arrive in 43.4 hours.”  Senik nodded, staring about the room.  He is wearing light blue hospital gown patterned with starships.  It is not nearly warm enough, as he is used to the desert climate of Vulcan.

Vulcan is no more.

“I will meditate now,” Senik announced, staring at the brightly colored animals painted on the pediatric ward’s walls.  Elephant.  Tribble.  Sehlat.

 _Vulcan is no more._  

“I find myself unsettled,” he added needlessly.  Senik gathered his limbs together and curled into the correct pose without glancing at his cousin.

“Then I will meditate with you,” Spock said.  Senik could feel the mattress sag in front of him and glanced up to see Spock sitting in the loshirak position opposite him at the foot of the hospital bed.

An hour later, a nurse found the pair in the same position and could do nothing but watch, to afraid to disturb their temporary peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did you guess the countdown correctly?
> 
> Thank you, gentle readers, for your kudos and comments. I love them so. It's a rough couple weeks for me ahead in real life, but I love sharing stuff with you all, it makes me so happy :-)


	19. Brittle

Spock decided that Senik would remain in the pediatric ward and not the psitrauma unit, where hundreds of Vulcans were being treated as part of a massive triage effort.  While the pediatric ward had no psihealth specialist, Spock was wary of moving Senik to a unit full of mentally wounded Vulcans.  Even from many floors away, Spock could sense their unshielded psychic projections of pain and loss.    Spock could feel his own skin itching, a psychosomatic reaction to the projected stress.

Senik had finished meditating and had created a passable semblance of the mental shields that he once possessed.  From what Spock had gathered, Vulcan children were the most affected from the decimation of the Vulcan population, but also the most resilient.  In time, he would learn how to adjust to his unbonded state.  Some adults were still in a comatose state, others were functioning within normal parameters, such as Spock’s father.  Unbidden, a recent memory of Sarek appeared in his mind’s eye.

_You asked me once why…_

Spock ruthlessly silenced the voice in his head and focused on the slight boy propped up in the hospital bed.  Predictably, Senik desired information about the destruction of Vulcan.

“You realize I am not at liberty to discuss many of the details surrounding those events,” Spock said.

The boy immediately nodded.  “I wish to know about the origins of the vessel,” Senik said hesitantly.  “Is is suspected that there are others with weapons such as the one that destroyed Vulcan?”  The boy’s tone was even, nearly devoid of emotion.  Nearly.

“Negative,” Spock replied, grateful he could quell this one fear.  "It is believed the vessel and its weapon was from an alternate future, and its crew acted alone."

“An alternate future?” Senik asked, eyes wide in wonder.  “Is there evidence to support this theory?”

“It’s being compiled at this very moment,” a cheery voice announced.  Spock's heart gave an involuntary leap at the sound and he and Senik turned to see James T. Kirk standing at the door, holding a balloon.

“Cadet Kirk,” Senik greeted.  “I am content to see that you are mostly unharmed.”

Jim smiled tightly.  He was dressed once again in his cadet uniform, hat at his side, obviously just coming from a meeting with Starfleet.  Jim only glanced briefly at Spock before turning his full attention to the child in the hospital bed.  “Hey kid.  You feeling better?”

Senik nodded.  “I am much improved.  The doctors project that I will be released within the day.”

Jim set the brightly colored balloon with “Get Well Soon” in bright yellow and silver script, on the side table.  Spock and Jim’s eyes met again briefly over Senik’s head before Spock broke eye contact. He strengthened his shields and evened his breathing, concentrating on the pale blue weave of Senik’s hospital blanket.

“It’s a balloon,” Jim explained.  “This one is filled with helium to make it float.  It’s a common gift to bring if someone is in the hospital.”

Senik stared at the mylar balloon quizzically.  “What is its purpose?”

Jim frowned.  “We have them at parties or birthdays, or when someone needs to be cheered up.  They aren’t very logical, but most Humans like them.”

“Fascinating,” Senik said, reaching out to examine the plastic ribbon and attached weight more closely.

A dense silence fell in the room, and Spock struggled to say something before Senik observed the adult's unusual behavior and started to hypothesize what had transpired in the last thirty two hours.

“Is anyone thirsty?” Jim asked suddenly.  “Spock, why don’t we go grab Senik some tea.”

“I am not in need of-” Senik started, but Jim interrupted.

“I’m going to get a soda, but I keep forgetting what tea you two take.  Walk with me, Spock?”  Jim gave him a meaningful look, and Spock could only nod.

Spock stood and allowed Jim to lead him out of the room.  When they were half way down the hallway, almost to the beverage dispenser, Jim spun around to face Spock.

In the bright hallway, Jim looked positively ill.  The shadows under his eyes were cast in stark relief to his pale skin.  Gone was the bravado and buoyant affect, now replaced with the guarded look that Spock felt responsible for.

“How are you?”  Jim asked, peircing blue eyes searching his face.  Spock could feel the pressure of that gaze, as if Jim could see the dozens of hairline fractures in Spock’s mental shields.  

“I am functional.  When Senik is released, I will report to Starfleet for debriefing and my medical evaluation.”  Spock paused, so many questions he wanted to ask, but did not feel he had the right to ask them anymore.  “What is Captain Pike’s medical status?”

Jim frowned.  “Still in surgery, but in stable condition.  Where is your father?"

"He has taken residence with the Vulcan refugee camp in Alameda."

Jim nodded, then exhaled heavily.  “Bones invited me to stay with him and Christine, off campus,” Jim said.  “No one wants to stay in the dorms right now, it’s too…” he trailed off.  “I’ll stop by your place, pick up my things.  You haven’t told Senik?”

Spock could only shake his head.  He had not formulated an appropriate explanation.

“Well, you decide what you want to tell him.”  Jim’s lips pressed together in frustration.  “Classes are canceled until further notice, so I’m not sure when I’ll see him again.”

“T’Mae will arrive on Thursday to take custody of Senik,” Spock supplied.

“I would like to see him before he leaves.”

Spock nodded.  Jim started to walk again toward the beverage dispenser and without asking, pulled up the correct code for Senik and Spock’s preferred drink.

“We are going to talk about this,” Jim said sternly, staring at the drinks as they were synthesized.  “I understand you need this space now, but we aren’t going to leave it this way.”

Spock watched Jim in the corner of his eye, cataloguing the stress and fatigue lining his brow, every abrasion and contusion still untreated in Jim’s haste to get to the hospital.  He felt the urge to touch the pink skin, to have tactile reassurance that Jim was alive and well.  He almost gave into the illogical feeling until he was brought up short by the sight of a small purple bruise peeking out of Jim’s collar.

The sight froze him to the core, and the hairline fractures of his serene facade started to crack.  "Agreed," he managed to choke out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blows kisses at all the gentle readers*
> 
> You guys are just the best, I can't thank you enough for the comments and kudos and just general good vibes sent via internet. Thank you thank you thank you. Balloons for everyone!!!
> 
> Purposely being vague here, all will be revealed in due time. I think it's safe to say that the events were mostly kinda sorta movie-compliant.


	20. Marooned

_When Jim finally woke, he was strapped inside an escape pod and could only see bright white light and snow out of the small porthole above his head.  The computer console beeps and his heavy breathing were the only sounds he could hear._

_“No,” Jim moaned, tugging at the safety harness.  How did he get here?  Surely the Enterprise hadn’t –_

_"Shit.”_

 _Memories started to resurface.  He remembered his irrational anger, the blatant defiance toward Spock_. _Shit shit shitshitshitshitshit._

_“Computer, where am I?”_

**_Location: Delta Vega.  Class M planet: unsafe.  There is a Starfleet outpost fourteen kilometers to the northwest._ **

_“Fourteen kilometers,” he muttered.  He looked around the small escape pod, feeling oddly claustrophobic._ Screw this _, he decided, and gave a final pull to the safety harness, releasing himself from the seat._

**_Remain in your pod._ **

_"No, thanks," he replied and grabbed the climate suit.  He wasn’t meant to be trapped inside a tiny metal ball until rescuers arrived.  The anxiety and fear was starting to rise from the pit of his stomach, choking him.  He couldn’t fully breathe until he cleared the escape hatch into the bitter cold._

_The feeling of relief was short lived, as the intense feeling of wrongness and anxiety started to boil once more.  He surveyed the tundra landscape and tried to quell the feeling with deep breaths.  He took out his communicator and started to dictate._

_“Star date 2258.42 or 4… whatever.  Acting Captain Spock has marooned me on Delta Vega, in what I believe to be a violation of Security Protocol 49.09 governing the treatment of prisoners aboard a starship…”_

_A howl from the distance broke his monologue and—_

_-_

Jim woke with a start, suddenly alert.  He blinked away his dream of Delta Vega and returned to reality.  He was laying on Christine Chapel’s couch in the living room.  He glanced at the chronometer on the wall and sighed.  Jim had gotten less than three hours of sleep but he felt like he had electricity running through his veins.

After so many hours of pure adrenaline and meetings and emotional exhaustion, he was irritated to find that sleep was elusive.  He tossed on his side, flipped his pillow to the cool side and tried the breathing exercises that Spock had taught him, counting backward in Vulcan and letting the bothersome thoughts float away from his consciousness.  All of them had to do with the Vulcan.

 

 _Lehkuh._ Spock lost his planet and his mother in one moment.

 _Naukuh._   Despite those devistating losses, he had continued to captain the Enterprise.

 _Ohkuh._   Spock somehow brought out the worst in Jim on the bridge, leading to Jim being jettisoned off the ship.

 _Stehkuh._   Jim was able to bring out the worst in Spock.

 _Shehkuh._   Spock still harbored guilt for his actions toward Jim.

 _Kaukuh._   Despite everything, Spock was still at Jim’s side.

 _Kehkuh._   Spock had planned to die in a collision course with the Narada.

 _Rehkuh._   He was avoiding Jim and ignoring his messages.

 _Dahkuh._   If they inspired such strong and destructive feelings in each other during times of stress, how could they possibly work together?

 _Veh._   _My mind is silent._ Jim chanted.  _My mind is silent_.

 _Ris._ Zero.

 

The energy slowly bled from his system, but Jim still didn’t fall asleep for many hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a brief, but very important! Sad stuff and more flashbacks ahead, but my commitment to a happily ever after is unwavering, gentle readers.
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos and any thoughts or rants or crumbs of sympathy for our poor boys. Next chapter soon!


	21. Reunion

Senik sat alone on a bench in the entrance of the Alameda Convention Center.  Spock had left to find the refugee location desk, so he idly perused the Federation health notices.

 

**Terran Flu Vaccines administered on the Mezzanine Level until 1700 daily.**

**Eastern gardens reserved for meditation and the burning of incense.  Incense may not be lit inside the convention center.**

**Know the Five Signs of Psitrauma: Communal Mental Wellness is Everyone's Responsibility!**

 

The sound of Spock’s uniform boots rang on the tile in the empty entrance as he walked back to Senik.

“Your mother is being processed,” Spock said.  “We are asked to wait in the debriefing area.”

Senik stood and Spock walked him slowly through a wide and empty hallway into an enormous ballroom divided into smaller rooms by temporary walls of curtains and panels.  They were both scanned and sent to a corner of the room lined with chairs occupied by silent Vulcans.

They took a pair of seats, and Senik took the opportunity watch the others waiting. Two were girls younger than he, presumably orphans.  As was expected, they sat solemnly and silently, their round dark eyes unblinking.  Unusually, it was the adults who were seemingly restless, but Senik could only assume they were demonstrating signs of moderate psitrauma.  The one nearest to Senik was rhythmically rubbing his hands across the tops of his legs, another was twisting her hair between her fingers.  Fidgeting, Humans called it.  In Vulcans, it was a sensory seeking behavior commonly displayed in infants.  Senik had disciplined the compulsion before his second birthday.  It was unsettling to observe in his elders.

“Do not stare,” Spock murmured and Senik immediately averted his eyes to the floor.   _Kaiidth_.  What was, was. They would all heal, in time, he had been assured.

Occasionally people entered or exited, either refugees or Federation staff would take one of the Vulcans out of the room to temporary quarters.  Suddenly Spock stood and Senik followed his gaze to the entrance where a Vulcan woman was waiting.  Senik immediately followed suit and started to cross the room when he stumbled on the hem of his robes and fell to the floor.  Heat suffused his face, he could feel the eyes of the room on him, could reasonably infer their thoughts and speculations.

Impaired gross motor abilities was another documented sign of psitrauma.

Before Senik could stand up again, someone knelt beside him and fingers brushed the side of his face. “Senik-kam, are you injured?”

Many months ago on a planet that no longer existed, Senik had shied away from the same emotional gesture.  He had been irritated by the use of his nursery name, merely on the basis that his eminent entrance into adulthood could not allow for such illogical displays reserved for young children.  Now, he could do nothing but respond in kind.  He rested his own hand over hers and closed his eyes, feeling the comfort and maternal bond sing between them. “Ko-mehk,” he whispered.

 _Mother_.


	22. Sand

Outside the Alameda Convention Center, Jim stood as holo-imagers flashed around him, capturing his presence at the solemn occasion for new vids and textbooks.  Chekov and Sulu stood on either side as they posed for a few more moments before they escaped the reporters without comment and went through the double doors into memorial service.  A silent walk through the empty hallway of the center led them into an amphitheater with tiered benches, comfortably accommodating the twelve hundred Vulcans in attendance.

As one of the seven non-Vulcans to attend, Jim and his two companions stood out in their crisp formal white uniforms among the sea of grey robes.  They were three of Vulcan’s heroes, the Starfleet officer who disabled the drilling platform, the wunderkind who beamed the elders out of the Katric Ark, and James T. Kirk, who needed no introduction.  At least, that’s how the news vids had heralded them all week.

Jim scanned the crowd, unable to pick out Spock or Senik or even Sarek in the sea of Vulcan mourners.  Jim frowned, concerned that Spock would not be attending the memorial ceremony.  He had not heard from him since he visited Senik in the hospital.  In truth, Jim had only accepted the invitation to the memorial on the chance that he would see Spock.  He stood in the sea of people and realized he had lost Sulu and Chekov in the crowd, somehow.  Unable to locate them, he found and empty bench halfway down the amphitheater and began to look around for Spock.

His attention was grabbed by a gravely voice calling him name.  Jim turned, surprised to see the last person he was looking to find.  “Hello,” he greeted the man cautiously.

“I should have expected to find you here,” the Elder Spock said, standing over Jim in the simple grey robes.

“I gotta say, wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon or so… close to our mutual friend,” Jim replied, eyes darting around uneasily.

“Do not worry, Jim,” Spock assured him.  He glanced over Jim’s shoulder and gave a faint impression of a smile.  “Misters Chekov and Sulu, I presume?”  Jim looked over to his left where the pair was sitting a couple rows above him.

“You know them, too?” Jim asked suspiciously.

The elder Vulcan gave him a knowing look.  “I, too, watch the news vids.”  Jim gave him a sheepish smile.  Of course, Jim shouldn’t have assumed.  This Spock had lived in an entirely different universe; there were countless differences between Enterprise crews alone.  Jim gestured for him to sit on the empty space on the bench, which Spock took graciously.

“I admit I have never seen Mr. Chekov quite so young,” Spock murmured under his breath, seemingly engrossed in the arranging of the folds of his robes.

Although, maybe there were fewer differences than Jim had realized.

The lights of the room dimmed and hush fell upon the crowd.  Their attention was drawn to the dais floor where a woman in the same plain grey robes stood facing a large stone basin, over a meter wide, filled with red sand.  A gong rang, and she spoke in strong voice that carried to the edges of the room.

Spock intoned her Golic words quietly, for Jim’s benefit.

“What is left, but

Light on sand—

No sound, no rain

None shall remain,

But ash and wind

And light on sand.”

As the words were read, the sand on the dais began to float and swirl into sphere, held in air by an energy field.  Billions of grains of sand.  Six billion, four million, one hundred and twelve grains of sand, Jim hazarded to guess.  One for every life lost on Vulcan.  Jim’s throat tightened, and his Spock’s voice from his log rang, unbidden, in his mind.

_I am now a member of an endangered species._

The sphere began to glow and shrink in size, and sand took on a fiery appearance.  Moments passed and the sphere instantly hardened glass.

“Light on sand—

Bright and pure

This is how

Your katra remains.”

The energy field held the large glass sphere, gently turning in midair, and the lights brightened once more, and the Vulcans started to file out of the room.  The large ceremony had ended, and smaller group, what were left of clans and houses, would disperse for private ceremonies.

Chekov and Sulu stood, ready to follow the queuing Vulcans out of the amphitheater as soon as Jim joined them.  “Jim, if I may have a word,” Ambassador Spock said quietly.  “I’ll catch up,” Jim promised them, and waited until their section was mostly empty.

“I merely wished to inquire to the state of your wellbeing,” Elder Spock said.

“I’m doing okay, I guess,” Jim said.  “Cleared all the health exams, been debriefed a dozen times.  Now I’m just taking the suggested personal days and then I can sit the Academy exams and be done.”

Spock nodded.  “And my younger self?”

“Grieving,” Jim hedged, not wanting to say too much.  His Spock deserved emotional privacy.  Jim had promised that much.  The other apparently knew not to press the issue.

“I had noticed the token he brought, I assumed in honor of our mother,” Spock said.

“He did?  Where?”

Elder Spock gave him an enigmatic look and gestured over Jim’s shoulder.  “The balloons, of course.”

Jim turned to scan the room and found what the elder was referring to.  In the far left corner, many meters away, Jim could see a bunch of purple balloons slowly making their way to the double door exit of the amphitheater.  He couldn’t see any faces, but presumably one of them was his Spock.

“He brought balloons,” Jim murmured, surprised.  “I told your cousin that they were a Human tradition for gatherings.  I didn’t specify that they weren’t for, I guess.”

“Purple was my mother’s favorite color,” Spock said fondly.  “I think she would have approved whole heartedly.”  Jim looked at the old man, and saw his Spock there, sad and lonely, somehow tempered and worn by things that Jim would never know.  He had lost his world twice, had buried his mother twice, and there was no one alive that could understand.

“I was going to go to Amanda’s ceremony,” Jim said carefully.  “Would you like to come?”

Spock hesitated, uncertain.  Jim stood and gestured for the elder to follow.  “I can make sure they won’t see you, and if they do, we’ll make up something.  You can be some distant cousin, right?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on Jim’s suggestion, merely stood in agreement.  “Thank you.  I find that in any universe, I will always mourn her passing.”

“You loved her very much,” Jim agreed silently, trying to wash away the venomous words he had said to his Spock.  He was gratified that this Spock merely nodded in acknowledgement of the truth in the statement.  “She was a very special woman.”

“You met her?” Spock asked, seemingly surprised.  Jim mentally frowned.  Had they not been together at the Academy?   _Friend_ , the elder Spock had always called him.  _Old Friend_.  That certainly did not bode well, if destiny was to be believed.

“When she and Sarek visited a few months ago,” Jim explained, and then smiled at the now fond memory.  “I tried to make Thanksgiving dinner, and it didn’t turn out so well, so I ordered Chinese.  She ate it all graciously, even commented on the historically accuracy of the use of cabbage in the eggrolls.”

Spock huffed quietly, the little sound that his Spock would when he found something immensely amusing.  There was a part of him, a very small and scared part of him, that wanted to know about this Spock and the other Jim.  He wasn’t a coward, but braving unknown emotional territory was much easier than knowing that he might be fighting a loosing battle with this universe’s Spock.

“Did the other me meet your mother?” Jim finally asked.

Spock stared ahead, eyes seeing ghosts that were surely long buried for him.  “Yes, many times.  Jim was a particular favorite of hers.  She said that they two had much in common, but what, I never knew.”

 _You_ , Jim thought sadly.  _Surely they both loved you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle readers, I've been binging on Disney movies and orange soda to get the sad stuff out of my system. Let me know if you know anything else that will cure it, I'll take any cute fic recs, marsh melons, and puppy videos.
> 
> Completely not really part of the story, but in my mind that poem was pre-reformation poetry, which will will become very popular among new colonists of New Vulcan, and from their Surakian roots will come a new wave of pre-reformation counter culture that will be a visible and contributing part of the colony's future. It's a plot bunny that I really wanted to write into this, but really couldn't peacefully coexist in this story, so it's struggling here at the footnote. Feed that plot bunny carrots if you wish.


	23. Postulate

Senik had calculated that his position near the topiary was the farthest he could be from the mourners while still having the superior vantage point. 

All that remained of the house of S’chn T’gia had gathered to pay their respects.  They were but four now: Sarek, Spock, Senik, and his mother, T’Mae.  Amanda Grayson’s sister and nieces were in attendance.  Amanda’s former classmates from her vocational training on Earth and a few of Sarek’s and Spock’s Human colleagues also joined them in the small corner of the formal English garden reserved for the memorial.  In a slow stream they would approach Spock or Sarek, intone the same rote condolences, and move to the holographic projection of Amanda to whisper amongst themselves or wipe away their Human tears.  Senik almost envied their ability to do so, and wondered if he were able to emote as a Human, the grief would become transient.  As it was, his mental efficiency and flexibility had improved dramatically over the last two days.

Several minutes had passed until Senik finally spotted the Human he was waiting for.  Jim was ambling down the path with an elder Vulcan, their heads bent in conversation until they reached the garden gate.  Jim held the wrought iron gate open for the elder and scanned the garden, searching the small crowd.  When his eyes found the object of his search, standing next to Sarek, he abandoned his companion and made a beeline to Spock.

Senik immediately regretted taking the back corner of the garden, as he could not hear nor accurately lip-read the exchanges between Spock and Jim.  Something had changed between them, Senik had observed a change in the pair’s interaction in the hospital, but had not mentally aware enough to quantify the intensity or duration of this new behavior or analyze the meaning.  Now he could see Spock’s hands, now restless at his side and Jim’s eyes unwavering from Spock’s shuttered expression.  Before Senik could fully compile a mental list of hypotheses, a voice interrupted.

“You brought the balloons,” said the elder Vulcan said, the same that had accompanied Jim into the garden.  The aforementioned balloons were displayed near the holographic projection of Amanda Grayson, formally posed against the backdrop of Shi’Kahr with a closed-lipped smile.

Senik nodded.  “Humans display brightly colored sacks of noble gas to commemorate important events,” Senik explained.  He was aware that his aunt was no longer able appreciate such a display of such illogical sentiment, but Spock had verbally approved of it and Sarek had said nothing, which was essentially an endorsement.  The elder stranger merely nodded in understanding.  Having nothing else to say to him, Senik continued his observation of Spock and Jim, who was now gripping Spock’s arm wordlessly.

“It is good to see them in love,” the elder commented.

Surprised, Senik glanced up at the stranger, who was also observing the couple with a fond expression.  _Love?_   Was that the change he had observed?  He had not anticipated such an emotional occurrence to manifest between the two men.  Senik stared so hard at Spock and Jim he was squinting, trying to detect the novel trait or comportment this stranger observed that could warrant such an unusual comment.  “I cannot comment on your statement, as I was unaware of such development.”

“It is of no matter,” the elder said and bowed formally.  “I grieve with thee, young Senik.”  Without further comment, he turned around and took a seat in the opposite corner in the back of the room.

The crowd was starting to take their seats to start the memorial ceremony, so Senik crossed the room to sit on a low bench between his mother and Sarek.  He leaned forward slightly so that he could observe Jim and Spock sitting side by side, neither touching but casting tense glances at each other in asynchronous intervals.  The side of Jim’s hand could be seen to rest against the edge of Spock’s knee, which was jerked away.  Spock cleared his throat and turned faintly green, causing Jim to frown and fold his hands over his lap.

Senik catalogued the incident and compared it to their limited interactions since the destruction of Vulcan, and began to postulate a new theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle readers, the next (longer) chapter will be posted in less than 24 hours. It's a much needed flashback from Spock's POV. Thank you as always for any comments, thoughts, giggles, or mental chocolate!


	24. Fear

It was Spock’s suggestion that they meet at the coffee shop on the edge of the Starfleet headquarters campus.  Their schedules had been so busy that they had not had time to see each other aside from terse messages and lengthy debriefings with command.  Jim was already seated at a small table, two steaming cups ready, one undoubtedly Jim’s preferred latte.

“You look like hell,” Jim said in lieu of a greeting, handing Spock his spiced tea.  “But it’s good to see you.”

“As it is good to see you,” Spock replied, taking careful note of the shadows beneath Jim’s eyes and his pale pallor, all signs of exhaustion, but Jim’s smile was genuine.  It did nothing to ease Spock’s inner turmoil.

“How is Senik?”

“He has fully recovered.  His mother is residing with us until the refugees relocate to a suitable colony.”

“And how are you?”

Spock paused, unsure how to answer.  He felt like he was wearing his emotions plainly displayed upon his skin for all to see.  Even his father had recognized them before Spock had fully understood how compromised he had become.

\---

_One week ago, 2258.42_

“You are experiencing agitation,” Sarek observed quietly, mindful of the many ears on the bridge.  “I advise you to find Mr. Kirk and—”

“He is not aboard the Enterprise,” Spock said, fearful of the words his father would say next.  “He is safe, on Delta Vega,” Spock added, forcing his unsteady heart rate to lower to an acceptable rhythm.  Jim is safe, and now Spock was in control.  _He had control._

Sarek’s eyes widened imperceptibly and he opened his mouth to caution Spock, but was interrupted by the navigator at the helm.

“Captain Spock, detecting unauthorized access to water turbine control board,” Ensign Chekov announced.

Spock turned to the console.  “Bring up the video.”

Chekov brought up the security feed and played it on the console screen.  Spock felt his heart stutter as he watched as two figures darting past the water turbines.

_Jim._

It shouldn’t have been possible.  He should be light years away.  He should be safe.

“Security, seal the engineering deck.  We have intruders in turbine section three.  Set phasers to stun.”

Spock turned on his heel to the security station and watched the video feeds from there, the pair’s desperate escape.  _What are you doing, Jim?_ he wondered.  _How are you here?_   Distracted, as he was, he didn’t notice Sarek’s presence behind him.

“Mr. Kirk is here?” his father asked quietly, for Spock’s ears only.

Spock gave a minute nod, not wanting to alert the crew.  “He cannot be here,” he murmured.  He stared raptly at the screen, all evidence to the contrary.

“Perhaps it is not him,” Sarek suggested.

Spock nodded in understanding.  “A counterfeit Jim.”  It was unlikely, but a logical explanation where no other existed.  Spock shored up his remaining mental strength, intent on discovering the truth of the matter and directed the security team to bring the intruders to the bridge.

A a long minute later, two security officers escorted Jim and another man, drenched and dripping on the bridge floor.  Spock could not bring himself to speak to the man who looked like Jim just yet.

“Who are you?” he demanded from the unfamiliar man.

“I’m with him,” the man nervously answered, glancing at his companion.

“He’s with me,” Jim reiterated.  And it _was_ Jim, Spock realized with a frisson of startled recognition.  Even from this physical distance, Spock’s weak mental shields could not protect him from the scorching heat and presence that could only come from his lover.

“We are traveling at warp speed,” he pointed out.  “How did you manage to beam aboard this ship?”

“Hey, you’re the genius, you figure it out,” Jim retorted.

Internally, Spock bristled at the uncharacteristic comment, but continued calmly.  “As acting captain of this vessel, I order you to answer the question.”

“Well, I’m not telling, acting captain,” Jim replied and frowned.  “What, did— What now, that doesn’t frustrate you, does it?  My lack of cooperation, that— that doesn’t make you angry?”

 _Anger?_   No, anger would be illogical.  He was not feeling anger.  Confusion, irritation, annoyance were all emotions he could feel swirling just behind a force field of control, threatening to come crashing to the surface.  _Fear._   That was another feeling, a cold and illogical emotion that froze the walls of his mind, making them brittle and weak.

Spock ignored it, and turned to the soaking wet man.  “Are you a member of Starfleet?”

“I…” the man hesitated, glancing at Jim.  “Um, yes.  Can I get a towel, please?”

“Under penalty of court martial, I order you to explain to me how you were able to beam aboard the ship while moving at warp.”

“Well—”

“Don’t answer him,” Jim ordered calmly, eyes trained on Spock.

“You will answer me,” he replied, matching Jim’s even tone and meeting his eyes.  He could not see irritation, fear, or any of the emotions Spock was trying to control within the Human.  He only saw Jim’s determination.  _Why, Jim?  Why are you doing this?_

“I’d rather not take sides,” the wet man replied.

“What is it with you, Spock?” Jim asked, stepping forward, suddenly nose-to-nose with him.  “Your planet was just destroyed, your mother murdered, and you’re not even upset.”

“If you are presuming that these experiences in any way impede my ability to command this ship, you are mistaken.”

“And you once said fear was necessary for command.  Did you see his ship?  Did you see what he did?”

“Yes, of course I did.”

“So are you afraid or aren’t you?”

As much as he wanted to, Spock could not deny the state of his precarious emotions.  Cold fear swelled in his gut, straining his control to a thin breaking point.  “I will not allow you to lecture me about the merits of emotion.”

“Then why don’t you stop me?”  It was that, the challenge that finally make the first break through the brittle walls of Spock’s control and pierced through the cold fear and ignited a stronger desire to control that defiance.

“Step away from me Mr. Kirk.”  His vision tunneled and his hearing became less acute.  He could only see Jim, could only hear him.  _Jim needed to be silent, needed to obey._

“What is it like not to feel anger or heartbreak?  Or the need, to stop at nothing, to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you?” he questioned, unheeding of Spock’s warning.

“Back away from me,” Spock warned.  _If Jim would not obey, Spock would make him.  He would have Jim’s submission._

“You feel nothing!” Jim accused.  “It must not even compute for you.”

Spock could feel the final strands of his control strain, close to breaking.

“You never loved her!”

The last threads of rational though snapped.  _Desire, rage, fear.  When did they all become one and the same?_

It wasn’t until Spock felt the exhilarating pleasure of Jim’s sluggish breathing, racing pulse, and feeble struggles that any semblance of composure was restored.

\---

_Present day_

“I have harmed thee,” Spock whispered, fingers wrapped around his teacup.  The formal words did little to assuage the guilt and shame he felt, but it seemed the appropriate way to start.

“I said terrible things,” Jim said, correctly inferring that Spock was finally speaking of their encounters on the bridge.  “You have to know I never meant them.”

Spock nodded.  “I later deduced you said such things to provoke an emotional reaction so that events could proceed as you had planned.”

“I wish I hadn’t.”

“If I had trusted you, had listened to your plan to rescue Captain Pike, you would not have had to resort to such tactics.  Regardless, they were words and did no permanent harm to me.  I however, should have never touched you in such a manner.”

Jim shook his head.  “We both lost our tempers and got physical, if I remember correctly.  I’d rather be choked a little than nerve pinched and marooned any day, so please take note of that preference,” he teased.

“Do not make light of the situation, Jim,” he scolded.  “My decisions were illogical and would have been disastrous."

“Now you are being illogical.  You don't have that kind of foresight.  Starfleet still trusts you.  I still trust you.”  Jim reached across the table, hand open to extend comfort that Spock did not deserve.

Spock sighed.  “That trust is misplaced, as I have repeatedly demonstrated I am unworthy of it.  That you have not reached that conclusion on your own after these events only supports the conclusion that we are incompatible together.”

“We made an excellent command team out there,” Jim objected.  “The only way any of us would have survived the Narada is if it was you and me up there.”

“I was not referring to our commissions.”

Jim’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack for a moment.  “You’re breaking up with me,” he accused.  Spock paused a long moment and nodded once.  Jim’s face went pale and he slumped in his seat.  “Damn.  Didn’t see that coming.”

“I do not find you lacking in any quality,” Spock started, before Jim laughed bitterly, interrupting.

“Please, if this is some Vulcan ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line, spare me.  You are dumping me in a coffee shop.  This cannot get anymore cliché.”

“I presumed that it would be best to have such a conversation in a neutral location,” he said, still unsure how to respond.  He had more of his speech planned, a logical argument with more supporting evidence to present, but now that he was there with Jim, he could not recall.

“Well, I’m not dumping you.”

Spock had pictured his conversation no less than 21 times and had calculated Jim’s probably reactions (suppressed righteous anger had won out with 32.9% percent likelihood) but Spock did not have a prepared response for a flat refusal to end the relationship.

“I do not believe that is an option,” he stated.  Jim glared.

“Why are you doing this?”  Jim asked, his eyes searching Spock for the answers he had not said aloud.  He internally cringed, worried that Jim would see the ugly truth of why he needed their relationship to end.  “What do you want from me?”

He knew that there were many answers to that innocuous question, but he said what was necessary, to selfishly protect them both.

“I want you to leave me.”


	25. Catalyst

Senik stood in Spock’s living area, working alongside his mother as they read and categorized Vulcan artifacts housed in off-world libraries and museums.  As his unconventional Academy course schedule was on a semi-permanent hiatus, assisting in cultural preservation was a logical use of his time.

“Senik, let us break,” T’Mae suggested, stepping away from the console and heading toward the kitchen to set out the tea service.  Senik followed and took the proffered teakettle from his mother and set it in the ornate heater.  He sat, watching his mother prepare the tea in the traditional Vulcan way, recalling many memories of this ritual in his childhood home where T’Mae would pause in her tasks and call Senik from his studies.  It was a time of quiet reflection or discourse.

“Senik-kam, you are contemplating something,” T’Mae said, her wide eyes gentle and knowing.

Senik knew not to ask to what she spoke of.  He had been distracted, surely apparent in his inefficiency today.  “I do not understand why Spock and Jim have dissolved their romantic relationship.  My study of their personalities, habits, preferences, and strengths concluded them to be an ideal match.  Even in times of great stress they were both found to be resilient and capable communicators and leaders.  My data is corroborated by Starfleet’s psychological assessments.”

T’Mae tilted her head, considering Senik with a frank look, as if measuring him anew.  “You have found that the results do not align with your initial hypothesis.”  Senik nodded.

“As a scientist, I would form a new hypothesis and not linger as I am over the failed results,” Senik said, shoulders slumping in uncharacteristic poor posture.  “But I find myself wanting to understand the reasons why they terminated the association.  It is not logical.”

“There are times when even Vulcans make illogical decisions.”

“You did not, when you broke your bond with Father,” Senik reminded her.  Though it was many years ago, he had a clear memory of his mother, kept within the confines of Stutok’s estate, archaically traditional, and forbidden to work outside the home.

“My decision was logical, but not without its consequences.  I feared you would be kept from me,” T’Mae admitted, running a hand over Senik’s hair.  She was about to say more when the exterior door swung open and Sarek entered with a guest behind him.

“T’sai T’Pring, be welcome in domicile of my son, Spock,” Sarek said formally, gesturing for the female Vulcan to cross the threshold into the open living area. It was a name Senik did not recognize, but the ornate hairstyle and aloof mannerisms Senik could classify.  She was of old Vulcan nobility, like his father’s family.  He remembered it unusual to be without an entourage of guards and family members, but supposed chaperones were scarce, even for the Lady T’Pring.

“S’haile Sarek, I thank thee for thy hospitality,” she replied in a lilting aristocratic accent.  _Lord Sarek._   Although the house of S’chn T’gai was noble, they, like most Vulcans of the old noble families, followed the tenants of Surak and eschewed such outmoded notions as inherited titles.

“Who is she?” Senik asked in a hushed tone.

His mother raised an eyebrow meaningfully.  “An old hypothesis.  Possibly a new one.”  Senik frowned in understanding, watching the guest sweep into the room.

“My sister, T’Sai T’Mae and her son, Senik,” Sarek said.

T’Pring’s eyes flicked over T’Mae and then to Senik and gave them a dismissive look.  “Your sister is known to me.”

“As I remember you, a frequent visitor to the house of my former husband,” T’Mae said shortly.  As T’Pring gave no indication of hearing the other, T’Mae stood.  “As lady T’Pring requires no further introduction, I will resume my work.”

“An excellent idea,” T’Pring declared.  T’Mae moved into the living area, and Senik cleared away the abandoned cups.

“My son will arrive shortly.  May I offer you a beverage?” Sarek asked.

T’Pring nodded once, her eyes trained over Sarek’s shoulder, giving her a demure look of a lady of a noble house.  “Yes, a glass of water would be appreciated.”  Sarek left to fetch the requested glass and Senik took his position at his mother’s side, reviewing documents once more.  If he had been distracted before, he was doubly so now with T’Pring here, as a potential bondmate.

“I admit I am surprised that one of such a willfully broken bond would be welcomed back into he house of S’chn T’gai,” T’Pring said, now taking T’Mae’s abandoned seat at the table, fully aware that T’Mae was only a few paces away.

“I, however,” T’Mae said quietly, “do not feel such an emotion as surprise when reflecting on your poor manners as a youth.”

“Your sister is quite insolent,” T’Pring sniffed, delicately accepting her glass of water.

“I merely wished to convey the completeness of my understanding of your character,” T’Mae said, eyes never leaving the computer console screen.  “Simply put, I am not surprised by your indelicate actions or words, as they are easily predicted upon previous observations.”

If Sarek was taken aback by such comments, his diplomatic training would not allow him to appear as such, but neither did he weigh in on the matter, opting to remain silent.  T’Pring merely looked away, staring out the window and left her water untouched.

All parties were silent.  Senik, having grown accustomed to Human chatter, found it to be vaguely awkward, but it was abruptly broken by another chime.  As he was closed to the door, Senik walked to the door.  He keyed it open and found Doctor Leonard McCoy standing outside with a cardboard box.

“I’m here to pick up Jim’s stuff,” he said, before Senik could offer him a greeting.

Senik glanced at the adults, who merely blinked back at him.

“Well, I haven’t got all day,” the doctor barked.  Senik stood to the side without comment and Doctor McCoy ambled in and looked around open room, three adult Vulcans openly stared at him.  “Well, where is the hobgoblin?” he asked suspiciously.

“If you are inquiring as to the whereabouts of my son, he is currently at the refugee camp in conference with the elders,” Sarek said.  “Could this meeting be rearranged at another mutually-agreed upon time?”

Doctor McCoy frowned.  “No time like the present.”  The Human turned around and shouted outside.  “He’s not even here.  Come in and let’s get it over with.”

Senik peered around the doctor’s box to see Jim jogging up the path, dressed casually in blue jeans and white t-shirt.  Upon spotting Senik, he gave a half-grin.  “Hey, kid, good to see you.”  Jim squeezed his shoulder with Human affection, heedless of the stares he was receiving from the others.

“James Kirk, it is pleasurable to be in your presence as well.  You have already made the acquaintance of Sarek, and my mother, T’Mae,” Senik said.  Jim raised his hand in ta’al, which was returned.

“And this is the lady T’Pring,” Senik added, and was treated to an engrossing display of Human emotions displayed in such quick succession, he was certain that only a Vulcan’s visual processing capabilities would be able to see and catalog them.

_Surprise._

_Hurt._

_Anger._

_Resignation._

They flickered so quickly but plainly on Jim’s expressive face, but the combined meaning of these varied emotions was lost upon Senik.  He inferred that Jim was aware who T’Pring was and why she was here.  T’Pring merely pursed her lips in response to Jim’s ta’al.

“Well, I’m just here to…” Jim gestured to the box in the doctor’s hands.  “Just be a moment, sorry to interrupt.”  He spun on his heels and walked to Spock’s bedroom, Doctor McCoy trailing behind him.

T’Pring stared at the two Human speculatively, but made no comment.  Sarek face was as expressionless as ever, and Senik stood outside the door unsure if it would be best to follow Jim to help him retrieve his belonging or remain in the living area to better observe T’Pring.

As he was weighing the benefits of each action, another familiar figure was walking up the path to the front door.  “Spock is approaching,” Senik announced.

Sarek stood immediately and walked briskly to the door, as if attempting to intercept a missile on collision course with as much dignity as possible.  He opened the door before Spock could even enter, blocking the entrance.  “My son, Spock,” he greeted formally.  “Live long and prosper.  I have remade the association of our family, a noble lady of a great house.”

Spock’s brows furrowed slightly, and caught Senik’s eyes over Sarek’s shoulder.  “Father, peace and long life,” he returned, a quizzical note in his voice.  “May I enter my home?”

“I would suggest that we depart,” Sarek said.  “You may find the outdoors more conductive to reacquainting yourselves.”

Spock frowned.  “It is currently eleven degrees Celsius and rain is forecasted.  I do not see the logic in remaining outdoors.”

“I concur,” the imperious voice announced from the table.

Spock’s eyes narrowed.  “Have you brought T’Pring to my house, father?”

“She has agreed to an initial meeting and nothing more,” Sarek said.

“This is not the best time.”

“On the contrary,” Sarek said, finally stepping aside to allow Spock entrance, “if not now, then when?”

“Hey, Senik,” Jim’s voice called from the area of the sleeping quarters.  “Do you know where I put my—”

Jim appeared behind Sarek and had spotted Spock.  “My Academy sweatshirt,” he finished lamely.

Jim had once said that Vulcan eyebrows were very expressive, which seemed to be a poor observation as Humans, unlike Vulcans, could use the Lateral Orbicularis oculi and Frontalis muscles simultaneously, allowing for a wider variety of expressions.  Vulcan facial expressions were very crude, comparatively.  Spock’s own facial expressions were quite simple to discern, and Senik wondered if Jim could read them as well as the Vulcans.  If T’Pring had been sitting at the appropriate angle, she certainly would have been offended by Spock’s blatant emoting.

His nostrils flared.  _Desire._

Eyebrows puckered.  _Confusion._

“Jim, let’s go,” Doctor McCoy urged, a box now filled with clothing and various personal times in hand.

Jaw clenched.  _Anger._

“I have not seen your sweatshirt,” Spock replied evenly.  “If I find it here, I will have it sent to you.”

Jim swallowed thickly and squared his jaw.  “Yes, thank you.  Well, that’s everything.  Again, sorry to interrupt this… whatever it is.”

Jim nodded to Doctor McCoy and the pair walked to the door.  Jim paused a moment to pull Senik into a brief one-armed hug.  “Take care, kid,” he muttered and walked out the door, carefully avoiding Spock by millimeters.

Senik caught, for a mere .67 of a second, a look that was wholly incongruous on his cousin’s face as he watched Doctor McCoy and Jim walking down the path with the cardboard box.

_Longing._

Without a word, Spock sat down stiffly at the table, across from T’Pring.  Senik stood in the middle of the room, his mind weighing and dissecting the last four minutes in his mind, trying to align what he observed with what he knew.  It wasn’t until T’Mae put a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to the computer console once more, that he finally understood the conundrum presented.

“Mother, I believe I have prematurely derived conclusion from erroneous data,” Senik whispered, wary of the Vulcans at the table, whom had lapsed into a silence that showed no signs of breaking.

T’Mae glanced at the retreating back of James Kirk and nodded in agreement.  “However, you do not have the luxury of time to reassess this new information.”

Senik softly sighed, resigned.  They were all assigned as the first wave of settlers to the colony on New Vulcan.  Spock had announced his intention to resign his position with Starfleet and join the crew of the _T’Rikh_ to survey potential colony sites in 2.3 Standard weeks, possibly to never return to Earth again.

“If only there was a way to… encourage this study to its natural conclusion,” she murmured, head bowed over the console.

Senik’s brows knitted together in confusion.  “You suggest interference?”

“Introducing a catalyst,” T’Mae corrected.  “It would be fascinating to observe.”

Senik nodded thoughtfully, conceding to the superior logic of his mother and fellow scientist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Gentle Readers, thank you thank you thank you for your kind thoughts and comments thus far, I hope you see this chapter as where the tide turns toward our K/S Happily Ever After. It's a Festivus miracle ;-)
> 
> I'm a little worried about this chapter, I hope T'Mae in particular makes sense. I wanted to shed a little light on her, hopefully you see where Senik gets his spunky little science-y attitude from.
> 
> Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! Hope to see you all before New Years with another chapter.


	26. Confession

Spock at his desk carefully reviewing final projects from his advanced linguistics students when his comm pinged.

His eyes widened momentarily as he saw whom it was from.  Jim.

**Did you say plantains?**

He frowned, trying to understand the meaning of the message when another came a moment later

**They have bananas, are those just as good?  I don’t think Christine is going to care.**

A message as inexplicable as the last, Spock sent back a brief reply.

**I do not understand the meaning of this message.**

He waited a moment and was rewarded with a swift reply.

**I’m doing this FOR YOU, old man.  Answer me.**

Curious response, if not completely absurd.

**I am unaware of requesting any produce from you or any person, so you must be mistaken.  However, it may interest you to know that plantains contain a third less moisture, resulting in inefficient hydrolysis and a more starchy consistency.**

Satisfied with his answer, he turned back to his word, although glancing back at the comm more often than was strictly necessary.

**I’m sure you think your impressions hysterical.  Are you enjoying my emotional agony?**

Spock stilled at the question, hurt at the accusation and shot back a brief reply.  **Negative, I could not.**

**I’m standing in the produce aisle and even this reminds me of Spock.  There’s a box of gespar next to the bananas and all I can think of is him and if he misses me.  What’s your medical opinion of that?**

Spock read the message, and although he had already committed it to memory, he read it once more.  His blood pressure decreased for a moment and then suddenly increased by 12% resulting in an uncomfortable squeezing sensation in his chest. 

Jim thought he was messaging Doctor McCoy.

Spock considered revealing his identity, pointing out the error of communication; it was the most logical choice.  He found he did not have the heart to do it, as Jim would say.  But neither could he lie.

**I am certain he does.**

He immediately powered down his communicator, removing all temptation to communicate further.

\---

Senik read over the information forwarded to his PADD and handed it over to his mother.  It was his first attempt to introduce a catalyst to the romantic situation, and the results were unsuccessful.

“You diverted James Kirk’s outgoing messages to Spock’s communication device?” T’Mae said, her voice sharp with disapproval.  Senik wilted under his mother’s scrutiny.

“You find the method lacking in some way?”

“It was an ethically unsound decision, but no harm was done.  Do not attempt such a technique again,” she advised, and scanned the brief conversation.  Senik took the moment to delete the code he had installed on Jim’s comm, and deleted Spock’s as well for good measure.  It had been disturbingly simple, and worthy of mentioning the security flaw to Jim, once Senik’s task was complete.  T’Mae pondered the display and nodded thoughtfully.  “At this point, I would suggest that you would observe natural behavior if James Kirk and Spock were aware of other’s presence.”

“They will not willingly communicate,” Senik pointed out.  Senik had purchased an Academy sweatshirt similar to the one seen on Jim and planted it in Spock’s room.  Unfortunately, there was no outgoing package nor had Spock been seen with it.  For all Senik could speculate, it was still hiding in Spock’s room.

“An unforeseen meeting would be a logical choice,” T’Mae suggested.

Senik tilted his head, considering.  “Does this not constitute as continued deception?”

T’Mae gave him a sidelong glance, and started to bring up articles on ecological sociology and behavior studies.  “The deception is necessary and beneficial, and that which is necessary is never illogical.  We should select a predetermined location for this chance meeting to occur.  Both Humans and Vulcans are susceptible to suggestive psychology.  Is there a setting that would call to mind superior romantic feeling?”

Senik thought for a moment, then nodded.  “I know of a most ideal location.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle Readers, thanks again for your comments and kudos and mental chocolate. Is a smallish chapter now better than a longish chapter later? Depends if you are into instant gratification, I guess. I'm into sadism, drawing this part out as long as possible ;-)
> 
> I may or may not have watched The Parent Trap for writer's research. I regret nothing.


	27. Best Destiny

“Oh,” Jim said thickly, then swallowed.  “Can’t say I’m surprised.  Thanks for letting me know.”

“I am sorry, Jim.  Is there nothing I can do?” Spock asked, his hand reaching out to grab Jim’s arm in a gesture of honest affection.

“No, Ambassador,” the young man replied.  “You have nothing to be sorry for, it was his decision.  Perhaps Spock’ll find what he’s looking for on your new colony.  Let me know if you hear of… anything?”

Ambassador Spock tilted his head, considering that statement.  “As you wish.  In turn, I would be gratified to hear news of the Enterprise’s adventures.”

Jim nodded, the beginnings of small genuine smile gracing his face.  “Any words of advice?”

There was much he was tempted to say, a warning against the creatures known as tribbles, perhaps. However, in the light of the destruction his actions caused, he imparted the best he could give. “Have faith."

“That doesn’t sound very Surakian,” Jim teased.

The elder gave the young man a look that was not quite a smile.  “No, but it is sound advice learned from an excellent captain, Captain.”

\---

Spock left Jim Kirk’s temporary office in the north hangars off of the Bay.  He passed cadets and officers and felt the nostalgic longing to take off to the stars once more.  He could calculate down to the minute the last time he wore the uniform, the last command he had given, but it seemed but a moment ago.  It was a most contradictory problem, being of such an advanced age.

It was while he was contemplating this and a past that would never occur, that a familiar voice called out behind him.

“Father.”

Spock turned around to fully face his younger self, confusion evident on his face.  Still dressed in his officer greys, apparently filling in the final days of his commission before he stepped down to join the Vulcan refugees.

“I am not our father,” the elder admitted.  He watched, fascinated, as his own face rearranged itself from surprise to understanding.  They stepped forward, meeting in the middle to face each other like imperfect mirrors.  “There are so few Vulcans left, we cannot afford to ignore each other.”

“Then why did you send Kirk aboard when you alone could have explained the truth?” his counterpart asked.

“Because you needed each other,” he said simply.  “I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together.  Of a relationship that would define you both, in ways you cannot yet realize.”

“How did you persuade him to keep your secret?”

“He inferred that universe ending paradoxes would ensue should he break his promise,” he replied dryly.

“You lied,” the other Vulcan accused.

“Oh…” he scoffed, enjoying the look of incredulity on his younger counterpart’s face.  Was this the look that his Jim provoked so often?  He could now appreciate the compulsion now.  “I… I implied.”

“A gamble?”

“And act of faith,” he corrected.  “One I hope you will repeat in the future at Starfleet.”

“In the face of extinction it is only logical I resign my Starfleet commission and help rebuilt our race,” young Spock replied stiffly.

“And yet you can be in two paces at once,” Spock reminded him.  “I urge you to remain in Starfleet.  I have already located a suitable planet on which to establish a Vulcan colony.”

The young man tensed and frowned, a stubborn look that surely hid the same wounds that he himself had carried and healed, decades too late.  What would it take to show this young man that he was worthy of what he truly wanted?

“Spock, in this case, do yourself a favor.  Put aside logic, do what feels right.  The world you’ve inherited lives in the shadow of incalculable devastation,” he reached around his neck and pulled out his most treasured possession.  “But there is no reason you must face it alone.”

He held it out a simple silver lock to the other, who took it and held it gently and precisely between his finger and thumb.

“This was a gift to me,” the elder said, answering the unasked question in the other’s eyes.  “Representing… a dream.  One that we were unable to fulfill.”  He sighed, feeling the full weight of his years.  “The way you can now,” he added softly.

The young man’s fingers trembled for an instant before he closed his fist around it and nodded.

“Since my customary farewell would appear oddly self serving,” Ambassador Spock raised his hand in ta’al.  “I shall simply say good luck.”

The other raised his hand in reply, and he left him to contemplate their exchange.  Just before he walked turned the corner around the shuttlecraft, he saw young Spock tracing a finger over the locket, staring at it with open curiosity.  He did not need to be present to predict with 99.45 percent certainty what the younger’s reaction would be to its hidden message.  To a Vulcan, it was an illogical sentimental item, as the holographic projection had been committed to memory long ago. To Ambassador Spock, it was the last piece of a man that would never exist, and perhaps it would be enough to convince two stubborn young men to brave a universe together.

 _Oh, Ashayam_ , he thought fondly of another man, and then of two others yet to have a brilliant, uncharted future.  _Perhaps there is some true logic to the universe after all._

\----

Spock walked into his office and sealed the door.  He sat at this desk and set the locket before him.  After a moment’s hesitation, he opened it and was surprised to find the locket contained a holoemitter, projecting an image that was, without a doubt, an older version of Jim, singing in a strong tenor voice.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you… I know, it’s illogical to celebrate something you had nothing to do with, but I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on your appointment to the ambassadorship so I thought I’d seize the occasion.  Bravo Spock – they tell me your first mission may take you away from a while, so I’ll be the first to wish you luck… and to say… I miss you old friend.

“I suppose I’d always imagined us outgrowing Starfleet together, watching life swing us into our Emeritus years.  I look around at the new cadets now and can’t help thinking… has it really been so long?  Wasn’t it only yesterday we stepped onto the Enterprise as boys?  That I had to prove to the crew I deserved command and their respect?

“I know what you’d say: ‘It’s their turn now, Jim.’ And of course you’re right… but it got me thinking: Who’s to say we can’t go one more round?  By the last tally, only twenty five percent of the galaxy’s been chartered.  I’d call that negligent, criminal, even an invitation.  You once said being a starship captain was my first, best destiny… if that’s true, then yours is to be by my side.  If there’s any true logic to the universe, we’ll end up on that bridge again someday.

Admit it, Spock.  For people like us, the journey itself… is home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some movie dialogue slightly changed (only one word, I think!), and I added the deleted scene from the original screenplay because omgthefeelsithurts.
> 
> Gentle Readers, you crack me up and light up my life. Seriously, it's powering me through to the end (and I do see the end within sight!) Thank you so much and Happy New Year!!!


	28. Blind

Senik stood aside, giving Jim access to the closed door.  He blinked owlishly up at Jim, anticipating his next move.  Jim wavered a moment.  He had no plan, no back up, no assurance this would go well.  He had no idea what future was behind that door.

He just knew _who_ was waiting on the other side, and that thought alone propelled him forward and into the room beyond.

\--- _14 hours earlier---_

Jim started the day as he usually did, awake a half hour earlier than he needed to be, panting like he had run a marathon and drenched in sweat from a nightmare he didn’t quite remember.  He ripped off the blankets and swung his legs off the couch, taking slow even breaths.

“Jim?” a voice called behind him.  Jim looked up to see Christine, still dressed in her ‘Fleet nursing uniform, leaning against the door, a package in hand.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice his thick from sleep.  “You just got off your shift?”

She nodded, but her big blue eyes sharp with concern.  “Do you need anything?”  Jim shook his head.  “I know Len wouldn’t mind, he’s got some soma-sprays in the—”

“No, rather not,” Jim said, knowing where this was going.  “That stuff screws with my head worse than what I’ve already got.”

She stared a moment more, the same way Len did, as if she could read the invisible medical tricorder attached to his forehead.  Just when Jim was about to snap at her or give in—it was an even fifty-fifty— she held up the package in her hand.  “This came for you.”

Jim blinked at her in the dimness, not quite comprehending.  “A package came for me before dawn, and you brought it in the house?”

She snorted, walking around the couch to set it down on the coffee table.  “You and Len, so paranoid.  I scanned it and it’s safe, I promise.”

As a rule, Vulcans did not believe in gifts of gratitude or fan mail, which Jim was thankful for.  However, per new policy, Starfleet rerouted all incoming mail and packages from any “grateful Federation citizens” for inspection and then forwarded them to his office.  He was amassing a sizeable collection of starship tchotchkes and coffee mugs.

Now that the mystery package was in sight, Jim could see that it wasn’t a package, but a food tray and lid, the kind you would see in an old-fashioned Earth hotel room service.  Jim contemplated it for a moment, wondering what it was.

“Open it already, it’s killing me!” Christine urged, flopping down on Jim’s makeshift bed.

“What is?” a voice queried from the hallway.  Bones stood in the entry to the small living room, still dressed in boxers and an undershirt.

“Morning, Len.  Jim has a package from a secret admirer,” Christine informed him.  At Jim’s exasperated look, she looked a little sheepish.  “I saw there was a card.”

He looked for the aforementioned card, stuck to other side of the tray.  It was etched on bright blue paper with a simple typed message:

_A blind jarel_

_migrating in winter_

_needs its mate to find green pastures._

Jim read the words twice, once silently and then aloud to Christine and Bones.

“What kind of message is that?” Bones groused.  “What does that mean, blind jarel?”

“It’s Vulcan love poetry,” Christine sighed, smiling fondly.  “Oh, don’t look at me like that, I took a course years ago, it was fascinating.  The jarel, for example, is a like an antelope, they represent the loyalty and eternity of mated pairs.”  She looked between the two men and her dreamy smile dropped.  “It’s from Spock, isn’t it?” she asked, cautiously hopeful.  Jim sighed.  He had spilled his undying… something to her a couple night ago during her shift at the bar and she’d been heartbroken on his behalf ever since.

Bones frowned, his face dark.  “He has no business—”

“It’s not from Spock, he wouldn’t do something like this,” Jim said, and lifted the tray lid to reveal scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee, confirming his suspicion.  “It’s from Senik.  See?  It’s the first meal he attempted to cook for me.”

“Another social experiment?  The kid doesn’t know when to quit,” Bones grumbled, and stalked into the kitchen to replicate a cup of his own coffee.

“It’s okay,” Jim said, picking up the fork and stabbing into the still-warm eggs.  “I’ll talk to him.”

\---

It was the longest day ever.  Despite (or because of) the unexpected breakfast in bed from his not-so-secret-scientific-stalker, fate seemed out to get him.  Scotty had a minor mental breakdown during a conference call over the nacelle alignment.  Uhura’s commission papers were being held hostage by another captain who needed some old-fashioned schmoozing and a whole hour of Jim’s limited time before she relinquished what was rightfully the _Enterprise’s_.  By the time he was able to take a lunch, he was starving, but beyond frustrated to find that Bones had got to the replicators before he did and programmed the new “heart healthy” diet into the system. He spent lunch picking at the rabbit food on his plate and wishing for a big salty plate of french fries and a chocolate milkshake to dip them in.

He spent the remainder of the afternoon putting out fires among the departments and signing off on countless documents.  Just as he was about to call it a day, two hours after he meant to go home, he got a message from Pike requesting his presence immediately.  Grateful at least to get out of the hangar that housed his makeshift office, Jim grabbed his jacket and comm and took the next transport to the other side of the HQ campus.

When Jim was ushered into Admiral Pike’s office, the sun had gone down and the view from the office afforded a breathtaking view of the Bay and city below.

“Have a seat,” Pike said, gesturing to the chair across from him, situated on the other side of an imposing steel and glass desk.

“Nice office,” Kirk commented, admiring the view out the window.

“I think you’ll enjoy your view aboard the _Enterprise_ more,” Pike replied, a hint of envy still detectable in his voice.  Pike maneuvered his chair closer to the desk and fixed Jim with a frank look.  “Let’s not beat around the bush, Kirk.  You know why you’re here.  You need a First Officer, and you need one yesterday.”

“I’m working on it.”  It was the truth, but perhaps not the full truth that Pike wanted to know.  He hadn’t touched the files earmarked for First Officer candidates, but he was working on a plan.

“Work harder,” Pike shot back.  “If you don’t have one named by tomorrow, one will be chosen for you.”

“I need more time than that,” Jim said, disheartened.  “Repairs won’t be done for another two weeks and I’m up to my eyeballs in paperwork.”

“A First can help you with that,” Pike pointed out.  “And no green captain with the youngest crew in the fleet needs the additional stress of trying to break in a new First _and_ a new warp core _and_ a entire crew.”

“I’m working on it,” Jim repeated, this time more resigned.

Pike studied Jim carefully.  “A week after my captaincy of the _Enterprise_ was announced, my first choice for First Officer died in a skirmish in the Neutral Zone,” he said.

Jim blinked, astonished.  He hadn’t heard that, not from Pike or Spock.  “I’m sorry.”

Pike shook his head.  “Number One was an excellent leader, we had worked very closely for years, and I trusted her implicitly.  We were an excellent team.  But when I chose Spock as my First Officer, I barely knew him.  The psych evals had rated him as a modest match to my own command style but his service record was impeccable.  I admit, I didn’t consider him seriously as a candidate; I saw nothing that interested me.  There are still some old views among the brass that Vulcans don’t make good commanding officers.  They’d say they lack creativity and the necessary skills to balance crew morale and ship efficiency.  I didn’t believe that claptrap, but never the less, I was not looking for a Vulcan XO.”

Pike paused, giving no indication of continuing, as was his usual ploy to draw Jim out of whatever mental hole he was wallowing in.  He bit, of course.  “What made you change your mind?”

“Spock did, in a way.  He came to me and outlined the reasons why he would be the ideal First Officer for the Enterprise.  Its was gutsy, a science officer with relatively little experience trying to convince a seasoned captain to taking him on.  He gave a logical and well-articulated proposal.   I thought about it for five minutes and tossed it aside.  The next day, Spock approached me again about his proposal, wanting details about what I had found inadequate.”

“I’m sure you loved that,” Jim said sardonically.

“Shut up, I’m imparting a meaningful anecdote,” Pike chastised, his lips turning up in a smile in spite of his words.  “Anyway, I refused to speak about it, which made him throw one of those Vulcan hissy fits, and in his own way he accused me of holding onto the ghost of a comrade and waiting the reincarnation of Number One to appear.  Anyone else would have been mortified to say such a thing to a superior officer, but Spock just stood his ground.  Inadvertently, he reminded me of something I had forgotten, something I had learned with Number One.  Great teams aren’t formed in a single magical moment; they are forged over time and through adversity.  I didn’t need her or what we had, I needed someone here and now that could be the—”

Jim’s comm beeped loudly, interrupting Pike’s impassioned speech.  He gave the admiral an apologetic look, reaching in his pocket to silence it.  Before his fingers could mute the device, it beeped again.

“Why don’t you get that,” Pike suggested.  Jim checked the message and frowned.

**senik: I need you to come to these coordinates immediately.**

Jim glanced at the address, but didn’t recognize it.  He hadn’t forgotten the breakfast incident this morning.  Whatever this urgent issue was, he did not want to play into some well-meaning scheme for the betterment of the scientific community.

**jkirk: Why?**

He hoped the boy’s literalism and adherence to the truth would give Jim a hint as to the boy’s plans.

“It’s Senik, Spock’s cousin.  Might be some emergency,” Jim explained.

Pike nodded.  “He’s not doing well, you know.”

“Senik?”

“Spock.”

Jim declined to comment on that, unsure if he could talk around the knot that had formed in his chest.  Spock had been looking worn when Jim at stopped to retrieve his personal belongings, but of course Jim hadn’t wanted to linger and ask personal questions when the his ex’s ex was sitting at the dining room table in what Jim had thought of as his seat, glaring daggers down her upturned nose.  He had mentioned it to Bones when they got outside, but had gotten the usual “there’s no known treatment for chronic stick in the ass for pointy eared hobgoblins.”

Before Pike could continue relaying his meaningful anecdote, Jim’s comm pinged again.

**It is necessary that Spock speak to you of a matter of great importance.  As he will be leaving Earth soon, it cannot wait.**

Jim stood before he really knew what he was doing.  Truly, this day couldn’t get any worse, but he couldn’t ignore Spock, or Senik for that matter, even if it might be a set up.  “I’m sorry, Admiral, I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Don’t you want to hear the moral to my anecdote?”

Jim sighed.  “The moral is that I need to get over Spock and move on.”

Pike frowned.  “You weren’t listening.  Spock still alive and here, it’s hardly a time move on.  In this parable, you are Spock.  Fight for what you want, convince a wounded man that he’s missing out on the greatest adventure in the known galaxy.  Remind him of why he started this in the first place and challenge him to see it through.”

Jim smiled, the first real smile in a while.  _I don’t believe in no win scenarios._   “Aye aye, Admiral.”

\---

It wasn’t until he turned onto the street of the address Senik had given him that he recognized where he was.  Frontiere de L’infini, the location of Jim and Spock’s first official date.  The restaurant was already seating guests, but Jim strode straight to the hostess station, his expression grim.

“Have you seen a young Vulcan boy?”

Before the hostess could reply, a waitress, a tall woman with “LOUISA” embroidered on her black shirt, interrupted.  “Captain Kirk?  If you would follow me, I can take you to him.”

Jim frowned, glancing between the befuddled hostess and the Louisa, who was trying (and failing) to gesture covertly to the hostess.  Louisa grabbed Jim’s arm with a surprisingly strong grip and ushered him to the back of the restaurant, through the bar and around the far edge of the dining room, finally to the prep station where Senik was perched on a countertop, contemplating a kal-toh board.

“Here’s here,” Louisa announced.  Senik glanced up, and practically glowed in excitement.

“Captain Kirk, I am pleased that you have arrived,” Senik said, abandoning the gaming board and hopping off of the counter, allowing Louisa to retrieve appetizer plates behind him.

“Senik, where is Spock?”

“Seated in the private dining room,” Senik stated.  “I would take you to him now, but there is something you must be apprised of before you speak with him.”

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling an impending headache.  He knew it.  He walked into a trap.  “Let me guess, he has no idea you’ve arranged this meeting.”

“Incorrect, but I must admit that was how this meeting was to originally proceed.  However, Spock had deduced my intent upon arriving here, but agreed to the meeting regardless.”

Spock knew this was a set up, but was playing along anyway?  Why? Jim wondered.

“I admit I was uncertain if he would agree,” Senik continued, “as he was the unknown quantity in this situation.  However, I had a contingency plan in place.  I am grateful I did not need to use it, now that you are both willing participants to meet and converse.”

“Contingency plan?” Jim asked, still unsure how he felt about the entire situation.

“The private dinning room has no exterior windows and is equipped with doors that can lock from the outside, if the situation called for it,” Senik explained.  Upon seeing Jim’s alarmed expression, he added, albeit reluctantly, “Spock informed me that using them was both a form of coercion and against fire code.  An emergency shuttle craft would have perhaps been a better location, but one could not be procured on such short notice.”

Jim held up his hand in protest.  “No, don’t tell me any more.  I don’t think I want to know.”

Senik nodded.  “Perhaps that is best.  If you would follow me, I will take you to him.”

With practiced ease, Senik navigated through the kitchen and out the side and down a narrow hallway to a set of closed double door that must lead to the private dining room.

Senik stood aside, giving Jim access to the closed door.  He blinked owlishly up at Jim, anticipating his next move.  Jim wavered a moment.  He had no plan, no back up, no assurance this would go well.  He had no idea what future was behind that door.

He just knew _who_ was waiting on the other side, and that thought alone propelled him forward and into the room beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gentle readers, thank you for your patience.
> 
> I'm absolutely embarrassed to say that I wrote 80% of a chapter, and then realized it was completely wrong and had to delete it. I experienced my first bout of writer's block, pure and simple, but I feel much better about this version and feel just generally better writing again. Can we blame the polar vortex? :-)
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me thus far. You are so kind and remind me how much I love writing and sharing!!


	29. Answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A blind jarel
> 
> migrating in winter
> 
> needs its mate to find green pastures.
> 
> \-- Vulcan Poetry, author unknown

Where Spock human, completely human, that is, he might have fidgeted or felt completely out of place in the large, empty dining room reserved for parties.  There was nothing of his simple blue tunic or regulation footwear that would indicate that he belonged among the ornate chandeliers, gold brocade dining chairs, and tall mirrors.

But Spock was not completely Human, and his Vulcan heritage would demand nothing above a thoughtful consideration of his surroundings and a passing thought to point out to the proprietor that French Revolution was slightly anachronistic, if they intended to keep the room historically accurate to the 17th century European aesthetics.

He also thought of Jim.  But that was nothing anomalous.

To wonder about Jim was counterproductive and illogical.  To worry did not lead to a desired outcome.  However, Spock spent a significant amount of mental energy predicting what Jim was doing or hypothesizing what Jim would say or think in a given situation.  Spock worried that Jim was stressed, that he was inadequately supported to take on the captaincy of the Enterprise, and wondered who he would select as a First Officer.

He wondered if Jim would agree to meet him now.  It had been 15 days and six hours since the Battle of Narada and 7 days and 5 hours since the termination of their romantic relationship.  He calculated the odds to be 79.3346% against him.

He heard the door open and stood as soon as he saw Jim standing in the doorway.  Spock stood still, returning the other’s quiet regard.  Jim had come straight from Starfleet, as evidenced from his grey uniform.  His eyes were sharp, surely analyzing Spock for any indication as to the purpose of this meeting, but purple bruises beneath them betrayed that Jim was experiencing stress and insufficient sleep.

Again, Spock worried.

“Hello,” Jim said.

“Hello, Jim,” Spock replied and gestured to the other chair at the table.  “Would you care to sit?”

Jim walked into the room and took the seat opposite him, but not without glancing behind him to see that the door was closed and Senik had made himself scarce.  They were, for the first time in two weeks, truly alone.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” Spock started.

Jim nodded, face serious.  “Senik said it was important.  You know I’m still here for you if you need me.  How are you doing?”

There were many things Spock wanted to say, and had prioritized them by importance, incase Jim decided to leave mid meeting.  Reviewing his personal wellbeing was not near the top of this list, so Spock ignored the question and began with the most urgent point of discussion.

“I have harmed thee.”

Jim frowned, recognizing the formal words that began a formal Vulcan apology.  “I don’t understand.  Is that why we’re meeting at a restaurant?  Because I don’t think I could handle seven courses of food right now.”

“While I had hoped to communicate with you soon, I did not plan for this venue.  However, it seemed logical to take advantage of the opportunity that Senik inadvertently presented,” Spock said, finding the the next words difficult to give voice to.  “It is necessary that I explain a matter of importance and rectify a wrong, if you permit.”

Jim leaned forward, hands clasped on the table.  “I’m listening.”

Spock nodded, appreciative of Jim's willingness.  “As you know, when Vulcan was destroyed, the immense loss of mental bonds caused the psychic center of every Vulcan’s mind was damaged to some degree.”

“Psitrauma.”

Spock nodded again.  “The doctors hypothesized that I was spared the worst of the effects because of my half-Vulcan heritage and retaining three stable bonds from my blood relatives.”

"Yes, I remember."  Spock had shared the hypothesis two weeks ago, after they were debriefed on Earth.

“I believe we were mistaken, in part.  Over the past two weeks I have been experiencing episodes of… emotional upheaval and physical ailments, uncharacteristic with typical grieving or the injuries caused by my planet’s destruction.”

“But you never said anything,” Jim said, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him for symptoms.  “I didn’t know… but Pike knew, didn’t he?”

Spock shook his head.  “I am unaware of what Admiral Pike does or does not know.  However, I am not a victim of psitrauma.”

“He said you weren’t doing well.”

“Vulcan and Human brains are more similar than disparate,” he explained, hoping his prepared account would answer the unasked question.  “As we develop emotional bonds between ourselves and others, neural pathways start to form and are reinforced with each encounter. In the Vulcan mind an undeveloped part of the brain is stimulated, capillaries form and the synapses begin to intertwine with other lobes of the brain.  When the relationship is under strain, that which nurtured that part of the frontal lobe is gone, and the result can upset emotional and physical wellbeing.

“I had thought it was a result of the termination of our relationship,” at that, Jim’s jaw clenched, but Spock went on, determined.  “However, I know realize I first experienced it a week prior to that, aboard the Enterprise, when I knew I was leading the Enterprise to likely destruction,” Spock said quietly, watching Jim carefully.  “The chances of rendezvousing with the fleet and successfully overtaking the Narada were negligible.  In light of that, when the opportunity presented itself, I chose to maroon you instead of confining you to the brig.”

Incomprehensibly, Jim smirked.  “If I were you, I might have done the same.”

“As you are not me, you may not appreciate how a uncharacteristic that command decision was.”

“Then why did you do it?” Jim asked.

“Surely you know.”

Jim shook his head, frowning.

“It was the same reason you beamed back aboard the Enterprise,” Spock said.  “The same reason, I suspect, you insisted on beaming aboard the Narada with me, however illogical.”

“I had to save the ship,” Jim said, then shook his head.  “That's not entirely true.  I had to protect you.”

Spock nodded, a selfish—illogical—part of him hoping Jim might understand more than he realized.

“I had thought you would be safest on Delta Vega, but when you reappeared on the bridge, you were, as you would say, the last place I wanted you to be.  If I could not have you safe, I would have you obedient, regardless of your intentions.  I became violent in my attempt to dominate you.”

Jim was silent a moment, and then shrugged.  “Stress brings out the worst in us.  I told you before, we both made mistakes.”

“It was more than mere stress.  A Vulcan would not react in such a manner unless there were extenuating circumstances.”

Jim growled in frustration.  “Just spit it out already.  What happened?”

“A mental link was formed,” Spock said.  “Unintentionally and gradually, between two and three months ago.”

Spock mentally braced for Jim’s reaction, and became more alarmed when Jim gave no indication of any.  He was silent, staring at Spock without expression.

“I would appreciate if you would share your feelings on this matter,” Spock prompted.

Jim shook his head slowly.  “I don’t understand.  We are bonded?”

“Negative.  A bond could not be formed without consent, this was an inadvertent consequence of our mental intimacy.”

“Mental intimacy?” Jim repeated incredulously.  “We were never _mentally intimate_ , Spock.  We’ve never melded; you said it was reserved for married couples.  Oh, and enemy Romulans on renegade mining vessels, apparently.”

Spock felt the tips of his ears heat, turning green.  “There are a few key exceptions to that rule that I was negligent in mentioning.  However, one does not need to meld to create a link between two beings.”

Jim eyes became sorrowful.  “Is this why you ended it with me?  Because you didn’t want this link?”

“No,” Spock denied emphatically.  It was important that Jim understood that point, above all else.  “I had not realized this development until 21 hours ago, after a routine exam for my commission on the T’Rikh’s colonization mission.  My experiences made sense when the healer detected mental anomalies consistent with a telepathic link.  It would be the most logical conclusion, given our relationship and symptoms.”

“Really?  It doesn’t make sense to me.  How would I know if I do have this link to you?”

“Have you been experiencing insomnia and inappropriate emotions.” Jim made a face then shrugged.

“Have you ever been a captain of a starship?” Jim countered.  “It’s nothing but insomnia and constant grating on my nerves these days."

Spock conceded Jim’s point.  “I am uncertain, as a Human, what you may experience precisely, but if I may, I may be able to show you, if the link is present.”

Deep down, Spock was gratified to see that Jim nodded without hesitation.  Perhaps he had not lost all that he had thought was destroyed between them.  Spock reached out a hand toward Jim, but was displeased to see him flinch at the last moment.

“This isn’t a meld, is it?  I don’t think I could handle the emotional transference.”

Spock could not help but frown.  “Negative.  I require skin-to-skin contact to perform the most minimal of mental connections, if such a link exists.  Neither you nor I will experience anything that the other does not wish to share.”  He thought a moment about Jim’s wording.  “Have you experienced emotional transfer?”

“Once.  It was a little… intense,” Jim said lightly.

Spock’s eyes narrowed.  “You have participated in the meld?” he asked, his voice rough sounding to his own ears.  _Who would dare?_

“The circumstances were urgent.  I didn’t know what was going on, really,” Jim explained, his voice placating.  Unfortunately, that had exactly the opposite effect on Spock.

“If any person invaded your mind without consent—”

“No,” Jim said firmly.  “It wasn’t like that.  I can’t explain, really, but there was no harm intended.  I promise.”

Spock opened his fist that he did not know he had clenched.  “I am gratified to hear that.”

“You know, you can trust me to tell you when I do feel in danger,” Jim reminded him.

“I do trust you.”

Jim looked doubtful for a moment.  “Can I say something, before you try to find this… link?”

Spock nodded.  Jim took a breath and then fixed him with a firm stare.

“I need to know what it will mean, for us.  If it is there, or if it’s not there, I need to know what you are going to do about it.”

 “My actions would be predicated on your desires.”

“My desires?” Jim repeated incredulously.  “You are prepared to listen to what I want?”

Spock paused, weighing his words carefully.  “In my effort to protect you, I have tried marooning you, controlling you, and sending you away.  I am now aware that my decision were neither logical or conducive to attaining what I wanted.  Jim, in this, I am blind.  I am asking you to guide me to the next best step.”

Jim’s eyebrows raised in surprise.  “Blind?”

“I use it as a metaphor, of course,” Spock explained, unwilling to be derailed from asking the most important question.  “Jim, I find it necessary at this point to ask if I ever hope to regain your trust and attempt to reconcile our relationship?”

Jim blinked.  “Is a jarel-antelope-thing also a metaphor?” Jim countered, ignoring Spock’s heartfelt plea.

“Ah, yes.  I was uncertain if you had received my note this morning,” he replied, a little pleased Jim had, at the very least, made the connection.  However, Jim pushed up from the table and stood and started to walk away.  Spock stood, taking a few sudden steps toward him and then stopped, staring hopelessly at Jim’s back.

Instead of walking out the door, Jim spun and started pacing back toward Spock.  Jim stopped, almost toe to toe with him, breathing hotly in Spock's face.

“After a week of radio silence, knowing you’re about to run off on some backwater colonization project, you foil your cousin's plan to get us back together only to try to get us back together.  We may or may not have accidentally been mentally connected and I might have some link in my head that has been driving us both nuts.  And, by the way, you made me eggs and sent me Vulcan love poetry as a secret admirer.  Does that sum it up?”

“Essentially accurate, although I thought my use of Vulcan prose and the meal being the first I prepared for you would indicate only one possible person.”

Jim rolled his eyes.  "Why do you always make things so complicated?"

Spock felt a tightening in his chest, a lingering feeling of doubt and panic that had plagued him recently.  _Had he made a mistake?  Was Jim upset by his attempt to make amends?  Was it too late?  Was there even a link between them, or was it simply a one-sided psychic scar that Spock would simply have to endure?_

Spock was about to repeat his own question when Jim suddenly grabbed the back of Spock’s neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss.

For a long moment, Spock could not think.  When he opened his eyes (when had they closed?) and gasped for air, staring into surprised blue eyes.

“I see,” Spock said weakly, finding no need to voice his unspoken questions.

No need to ask, because Jim had— illogically, enthusiastically, brilliantly— answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle Readers,  
> Is our favorite couple ready to tie this up with a big happily ever after bow? I'd love to know what you think.  
> Your servant,  
> Walkandtalk


	30. Both Hands

Senik silently followed his mother through the labyrinth of corridors of the Alameda Convention Center that had been set aside for personal quarters.  He took a moment to peer down from the mezzanine balcony to where a small group of students were studiously pouring over a large digital star map projected onto the floor.  Above them notices were scrolling across the glass walls.

**Recall on all Ferengi simulated incense.  All persons experiencing vertigo, craving of root beer, and rashes of the hands and feet should report to the medical ward immediately.**

**Passengers and crew of the T’Rikh are to complete physicals before 1500 tomorrow.**

The _T’Rikh_. Senik’s brow furrowed in thought.

It had been twelve hours since his failed mission at Frontiere de L’infini. Senik returned home before Spock (which could not be characterized as running away) and Spock broke his fast and left the house before Senik left the room he now shared with his mother (which was not precisely hiding).  T’Mae later informed him that Spock had an urgent appointment with a Healer.

Upon hearing that, Senik proceeded to relay what he had observed at the restaurant. He lacked such poor visual and auditory information—regulated to standing in the serving station in the hallway, with only infrequent glimpses of the private dining area when he stood on his tiptoes—that he could only confirm that Jim and Spock had exchanged bilabial contact for an extended period of time.

“What does this indicate?” T’Mae asked.

“I was assured by a Human co-collaborator that the Human exchange, the kiss, was a sign of a romantic inclination and was not likely to be given if both parties harbored hostile or indifferent feelings.”

T’Mae nodded pensively.  “Your conclusions?”

“While my original mission failed, I conclude that there as been a positive change in the relationship between Captain Kirk and tomasu Spock, characteristic of recommencing their romantic association.”

Spock’s appointment with the Healer, the notice in the Convention Center, and the _T’Rihk_ about to depart within the next week may indicate his conclusion was incorrect.  Perhaps his interference (Senik reluctantly characterized his efforts as such) was for naught and Spock was leaving to recolonize the new planet.

 _Might he be experiencing guilt?_   Senik wondered. Negative.  Surely the result was of such a beneficial nature that to experience guilt was counterproductive.

However, it didn’t quite explain why Sarek summoned them that very morning.  T’Mae made no comment as to why, but Senik could only postulate that it had something to do with the events of last night.

T’Mae stopped in front of a room labeled “Willamette Board Room” in a scrolling print on a brass plate. Sarek opened the door and they were ushered in.  The small office space’s furniture had been moved to the far corner to make room for several narrow cots with the sparse personal items neatly organized at the foot of each cot. At the far end, Spock sat with a blonde figure, his head bent in quiet conversation.  Spock looked up first, causing his companion to turn around.

“Captain Kirk, I was not aware that you would be here,” T’Mae said kindly.

“Oh, I’m hard to get rid of,” Jim said, winking at Senik.  He seemed to be in an excellent mood.

“It is pleasing if that is true,” Senik said, then met Spock’s eyes and refused to react to his gaze.

“I would typically characterize this meeting as a chance encounter, but I have reason to believe much of the last few days where not predicated upon chance,” Spock commented, eyes narrowing slightly.  Senik suspected if Vulcan oculus nerves were capable of producing electromagnetic waves, he would be experiencing an increase of temperature.

“I requested their presence,” Sarek said, interrupting Spock’s suspicious gaze. “If we are to… turn over a new leaf, as Captain Kirk suggests, our family should be present to hear the whole of the situation.”

“This morning the Healer confirmed that Jim and I possess a mental link, and we mutually agreed to maintain this link and our relationship.”

T’Mae and Sarek nodded as if this was what they had expected all along, which was enough to make Jim grin and Senik to vibrate with triumph.  Success achieved.

“And as it turns out, I am wickedly psionically gifted for a Human,” Jim announced.

“You have an aperception quotient that is commiserate with that of most Klaestrons,” Spock murmured dismissively.

“Which is cool _and_ has the added bonus of driving Bones nuts,” Jim pointed out.  Spock pursed his lips together in the first real sign of amusement Senik had seen in weeks.

“Then all is well again,” Senik blurted, before he could contain himself.  Upon the adults questioning gaze, he restated, “Tomasu Spock and Captain Kirk are again as they should be, which will be communally beneficial.”

Unsurprisingly, it was the Human who spoke first.

“Senik, I know you’ve only wanted to help, but people aren’t equations to be balanced and rebalanced,” Jim said, starting slowly.  “It’s so much more complicated than that.  We’ll always have our disagreements and miscommunications because we are still learning each other.”  Jim looked at Spock meaningfully.  “We given ourselves this second chance, and it’s ours to make of it what we want.”

Senik nodded, his ears warming in shame.  “I apologize for my duplicity, and…” he glanced up at his mother, who merely raised an eyebrow at him.  No, no help from that corner. “…And I will endeavor to be more circumspect in my support of your private relationship.”

Spock nodded. “While we benefitted, you now see that your _support_ was both illogical and immoral.”

“But necessary,” Senik countered, unable to contain himself again.  Surely Spock could see that perhaps in this one instance…

“And that which is necessary is never unwise,” T’Mae said, an oft-repeated proverb of Senik’s household, but he had never quite understood until now.  Spock turned to look at his aunt with the same speculative look. T’Mae didn’t so much as blink and made no further comment.

Jim grinned. “Vulcan wisdom, right there. Makes my own illogical decisions actually quite sensible and brilliant.”

Spock looked sidelong at the Human.  “A poorly made conclusion from that axiom that does not absolve Senik of wrongdoing.”

“Are you upset he did?” Jim murmured, nudging Spock’s shoulder with his own.  Spock frowned.

“It is beside the point.”

“No, the point is we are both feeling well again for the first time in weeks,” Jim said, boldly covering Spock’s hand his own and looking up at the other Vulcans.  “More importantly, Spock and I have something we want to tell you.”

Spock paled. “I don’t think that now—”

“Well, you were all going to find out sooner than later,” Jim said, talking over Spock’s quiet objections. “It’s a big step, after all, didn’t know if we’d be ready for this, but I know Spock is going to need your support. We’ve given it a lot of thought in a short amount of time, but it only seems like the natural choice after all that’s happened.”

Sarek and T’Mae shared a brief wide-eyed look before looking back at the pair.  Senik quickly thought back to a abandoned proposal he never got the opportunity to present in Doctor McCoy and Jim’s shared quarters months ago and wondered if he had included any graphs or citations on marital relationships between starship officers.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Jim said, smiling up at Spock.  “C’mon, don’t make me say it.”

Spock looked at the three Vulcans awaiting the announcement.

“I am renewing my commission on the Enterprise as First Officer.”

If T’Mae and Sarek exchanged a disappointed look and Senik gave a discontented sigh, they didn’t seem to notice. “It is well, then,” Sarek said. “You will not regret leaving the T’Rikh?”

“As Jim said, second chances such as these are to be held with both hands,” Spock replied, and looked down into Jim’s face with wide, adoring eyes.  “I would only regret letting go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? Even the happy events in (real and fictional) life can get in the way. Thanks for sticking with me thus far if you're out there :-)


	31. Path

T'Mae sat across from her son, cataloguing Vulcan pre-reformation texts in Spock’s living area. She paused in her work to observe Senik in his work.  The boy had almost outgrown his robes, evident by his narrow wrists poking out beyond the sleeves. It would be more efficient to recycle and replace the clothing now while they were still on Earth.

“The Vulcan High Command has requested that I take a position with the geologists on New Vulcan with the T’Rihk,” T’Mae started without preamble.  Senik looked up from his PADD.  “If I accept, I will depart in eight solar days.”

Senik nodded in understanding, but his brow crumpled in an unasked question.

“You will have a decision to make,” she said. Despite the recent request, she had given this a great deal of thought.  “You may join me on the T’Rihk, or stay here for the second wave of colonists, or…”

“Or?”

“You may find that you want to make a life for yourself here on Earth.”

“Ko-mehk, I am not of my majority age, and Spock cannot be my guardian while he is serving on a starship,” Senik pointed out.

“If you were on Vulcan, perhaps you would have attempted your kahs-wan and journeyed into the Forge to prove your maturity and strength in Surak’s principles, but there will be none of that now,” T’Mae said bluntly.  “However, you have grown as an independently thinking being, and I cannot make this choice for you. You are to be nine years of age, old enough to decide where you next path will take you. I will see that you are taken care of, whatever you choose.”

Senik pondered T’Mae’s words. Inside, T’Mae’s heart both swelled and broke for her young son.  Old enough to decide, but there were moments where she could only see the infant she swaddled and the toddler she comforted and the little boy who was learning how to operate his first microscanner.

“I am a scientist,” Senik said definitively. “New Vulcan is largely unstudied, and would provide a fascinating environment with many opportunities. It appears that all of my immediate needs would be best with the first wave of colonists, and with you.”

While she would never voice it, Senik’s decision pleased her.  She contented herself to brush her hand against her son’s hair.  “As you say.”

“At least for the next five years,” Senik added, returning to his work.

“Five years?”

“Commander Davis of Starfleet Academy informed me that they have considered students as young as fourteen. I will attempt after my thirteenth birthday.”

T’Mae blinked.  “As you say.”

What a surprising and beautiful thing it was to see your child grow up in the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief interlude, gentle readers, as our two favorite starship officers prepare to navigate love, the universe, and everything. Parenting Senik must be equally terrifying and rewarding, don't you think? Much thanks for your warm comments in the last chapter.


	32. Black Box

As soon as Spock agreed that Jim was right all along and Spock was being a stubborn Vulcan ass—his words, not Spock’s—life started to finally make sense.  Jim called it their new normal.

The new normal now meant Jim could tell if Spock was working or meditating from miles away, now that he knew how to perceive the tenuous link between them.  It was like noticing a phantom feeling of an unknown appendage or seeing a glow in a dim room in your peripheral vision that would get brighter or dimmer in relation to Spock's mental activity.  Jim tried to explain the feeling once to Bones after another full physical (“damned Vulcan mind voodoo”) and the doctor concluded it was his Human brain’s attempt to process the something his Human brain was never meant to process.

Jim and Spock were trying to navigate this new normal as cautiously as possible.  Jim reasoned that it wasn’t just trying to piece back together what they had, it was adding a whole new lifestyle to their previous relationship parameters (to quote Spock).  As captain, Jim was twenty times busier than he had ever been. Although Spock resigned his commission on the T’Rikh and had had been granted reinstatement of his commission, Spock’s official paperwork was still floating around HQ and being processed, which wasn’t moving along nearly the speed Jim felt it needed to.

 _Slow_ , Jim reminded himself. They were taking it slow.

Which was why Jim was frozen in Spock’s bathroom, staring at the toothbrush in his hand. He could put it back in his duffle bag, just as he has the last three days, or he could leave it in the holder next to Spock’s.  It might be an encouraging message to Spock, another assurance that Jim was here to stay, that they could harmoniously cohabitate as they once did.  Or maybe Spock wasn’t ready for that just yet.

“Jim?” the aforementioned Vulcan called on the other side of the door.  “We must depart in seven minutes.”

 _Screw it_ , Jim thought, and left his toothbrush in the holder and opened the door.

“Have I ever told you that you can pull off neutral colors like nobody’s business?” Jim remarked, raking his eyes up and down Spock’s Starfleet greys, which were second only to his instructor uniform. He wondered if Spock still had it and would be willing to bring his retired uniform aboard the Enterprise.  Just because.

“Negative,” Spock replied, and turned and walked toward the kitchen, seemingly immune to Jim’s stares, which rankled a little.

Down, boy, Jim reminded himself as he walked into the bedroom they had resumed sharing.  Not for sex, but because having the other close was the only way he and Spock could get decent rest.  After an awkward first night where Jim insisted on taking the floor but had accidentally ended up snuggling next to Spock after sleepwalking to and from the bathroom, they had wordlessly agreed to continue the arrangement.  Not that Jim would have minded some quality naked time, just small slips of naked skin where Spock's full-body pajamas (damn them) would ride up was enough to make Jim wish for something, anything, to take the edge off.  He was starting to feel like a character in a Victorian romance novel, ogling at Spock's bare ankles.

Distracted, Jim reached into his duffle to pull out clean underwear, only to find he didn’t have any.

“Spock, mind if I borrow some briefs?” Jim called out.  No answer. Six minutes and counting until they left, he made yet another line-crossing decision and opened Spock’s underwear drawer to find several neatly organized pairs of regulation underpants. He grabbed the first pair, revealing a box underneath.

A square, black box.

A small, square, black box, exactly the kind one put jewelry in.

For a moment Jim stood gaping at it, trying to imagine what Spock would be doing with it, and how it ended up in the underwear drawer of the most organized bipedal in Jim’s acquaintance. The hand holding the borrowed briefs hovered over it, the temptation to open it was agonizing.

Jim made a snap decision, dropped the underwear and shut the drawer.

He could trust that Spock would tell him when he wanted to tell him.

**\-----**

While not officially directed to take up his duties as First Officer, Spock’s reinstatement allowed him to assist in any area of Starfleet that required attention.  All over the ‘Fleet they were hurting for capable workers, even second and third year recruits were being pulled from classes to supplement who they had lost at the Battle of Vulcan.  In Jim's makeshift office in the hangar the supply closet had been cleared out to make room for Spock’s workstation.  Just in the first few hours Spock was proving to be invaluable—Jim had cleared more off his desk in two hours than he had in a full day.  

However, having him once again in such close proximity and in this new capacity was… distracting.  Jim had created some mental rules to follow.

  1.      No Human kissing while on duty (unless Spock starts it)
  2.      No Vulcan kissing in public (unless Spock starts it)
  3.      No nudity (unless away missions dictate it)
  4.      No pet names.  Ever.
  5.      Post-mission coitus was up for discussion



None of this was an issue when they were trying to rescue Pike and take down the Narada, but when the destruction of a planet hung in the balance, there wasn’t a whole of time to contemplate intra-office canoodling.

 _Maybe a nice Klingon invasion would clear my mind_ , Jim thought ruefully.

 He read yet another request from the communications department, and just as he was about to set it in the “maybe” pile, a dozen PADDs were set on top of his desk.

“Captain, these are ready for your approval and signature,” Spock informed him. After depositing the document, he stood back at parade rest.  “The first two have items that require your personal inspection, which I have highlighted.”

Jim grabbed the tall stack and set them on “incoming” side of his desk. “I thought all documents needing my signature require my inspection.”

Spock shook his head.  “The remaining ten are standard order requests consistent with the ship’s operating procedures.”

“I’d like to look them over, all the same,” he replied, grabbing the first one.

“Of course, Captain.”  Spock stood over his shoulder a moment, before continuing.  “Is there anything else I can do to be of assistance?”

Jim looked at his desk with its piles of organized chaos, and didn’t know where to begin.  “I could use another pair of eyes on these personnel requisitions.”

Spock held out his hand for the PADD.  “Anything else, Captain?”

“No, that will be all, Commander.  Thank you.” Spock turned on his heel and left Jim to review twelve more documents.

 

**Five minutes later**

 

“Your requisition, Captain,” Spock said from behind him, just inside the doorway.  Jim turned in his chair to face him, surprised.

“Done already?”

“It is a standard form that I am quite familiar with and my reading fluency skills are significantly higher than most Humans.”

Jim bit his cheek in chagrin. He knew that.  “Well, thanks.  Did they look okay?”

“Some small details needed more description about crew competency and capacity.  These will increase the probability of being approved.”

Jim held out his hand for the PADD.  “Oh? Thanks, I’ll fix it.”

Spock paused. “I had taken the liberty of adding that information, Captain.”

Jim blinked. Already?  “Thank you, Commander.  That’s one less thing on my plate.”  Jim held out his hand to accept the PADD but Spock did not move.

“Captain, if I may make an observation?”

Jim dropped his hand. “Please.”

“As your First Officer, it is my duty to advise and assist.  I am familiar with the _Enterprise_ and its crew, and to not use my knowledge and skill is a waste of her resources, particularly our respective limited time.”

Jim blinked. “I’m wasting your time?”

“In diverting time to review my work, your workflow efficiency has decreased approximately thirty-two percent,” Spock clarified, his face a blank mask.

“So I’m wasting _my_ time.”

“Essentially, yes.”

Jim frowned, trying to defend his work ethic the past two weeks.  “I’m a hands-on kind of guy, Commander.  All of these processes, forms, the workflow, and the crew: I’m still learning everything.  I need to know how my ship works before we get up there.”

“Permission to speak freely, Captain?”  Jim nodded, simultaneously feeling relief and dreading whatever Spock was dying to say.

“Your commitment to understanding the minutia of the ship’s procedures is admirable.  However, I do not need to understand how the alloys in my science equipment are rendered to perform my duties as Science Officer.”

Jim shoulder sagged with a heavy sigh. Spock’s brows knitted in concern.  “I am concerned I have miscommunicated my message with my attempt at colorful metaphor.”

“No,” Jim said, wiping his face with his hand and plastering on a smile.  “No, I understand what you are saying, and I appreciate it. I can’t possibly expect to understand everything about the ship and a good captain knows his limits.”

“But a great one knows his crew and to overcome any limit.”  Jim looked up, surprised.  “Something that Admiral Pike once said,” Spock clarified.

Jim nodded. “This has happened so fast,” he said, waving a hand around him.  “One moment I’m preparing for graduation, the next I’m captain of the flag ship. I feel like they’re waiting for me to fail, and I can’t do that.”  He looked up into Spock’s face, silent and without judgment.  “I can’t afford to fail us here, not when we’ve hardly even started.”

Spock stepped forward and knelt in front of him so they were eye to eye and Jim could see the tiny gold flecks of color within his brown eyes.  Jim held his breath and resolutely did _not_ think about a small black box in Spock’s underwear drawer.

“Jim,” Spock said softly. “You will not fail. You are incapable of making anything less than a success out of whatever you endeavor to do.”  A hand lifted to brush along Jim’s psi points, a gentle warmth and light permeated through their tenuous link.  “It is my duty and pleasure to support you in anyway that I can.”

Jim held Spock’s hand to his cheek before the Vulcan could retreat.  “I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“It is my intent that you should never have to do so.”

In that moment Spock was so solemn and sincere, Jim broke his mental rules of decorum around Spock and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.  Immediately the link flared brighter and Jim hummed with surprised happiness. “You know that feels like—” but his lips were captured, quite insistently, pushing him back in his chair. Instinctively Jim grabbed Spock shoulders to steady him, only serving to bring them closer together.

“Ahhh—” Soft lips and pliant tongue and delicious friction.  The mental light that was Spock flared brighter.  “Whaa—” teeth and tongue laved the side of his neck, making him gasp. Jim felt rather than saw clever fingers single handedly undo his belt and heard the unzipping of his pants in an instant. “Whoa.  Maybe we should saaaa—” a firm hand squeezing him expertly, making Jim’s eyes cross. “aah, save this for home.  Lunch break.” There, that sounded professional and not at all desperate.

Spock looked down at him as if he’d suggested they go ice-skating.  “Inefficient,” he murmured, and bent his head to nuzzle and nip at the tender flesh of Jim’s neck, making him shiver and forget objections. Conceding that Spock must be the expert in all things related to productivity, Jim wrapped his legs around Spock’s waist started to rub himself wantonly on Spock, enjoying the link’s dazzling brilliance that came with each stroke.

“So good,” he moaned, wondering if Spock could feel the intensity of link too, but the other man was too preoccupied with stripping off his own shirt to respond.  Jim dug his fingers around Spock’s belt buckle, struggling to undo it when the door suddenly knocked.

“Jim?  You in there?”

As if he’d been doused with ice water, Jim startled, pushing Spock’s hands off him.  _Bones_.

Instead of hurriedly straightening himself to logical perfection, Spock growled lowly, his face dark. “No.”

Jim eyebrows flew up. “No?” he repeated hoarsely.

“Jim,” Bones called again. “I've got a bone to pick with you.  Open up.”

Spock growled again, loudly, and Jim had the feeling that Spock had lost touch with reality.

“Spock, we have to stop.” Jim brushed his hands against Spock’s face gently, trying to will him out of were ever he was.  He didn’t answer, simply ran his teeth over the pad of Jim’s index finger, the link mentally blinding and disorienting him a moment.

“Commander, we are being summoned.”

That did the trick. The steel was suddenly back in Spock’s spine, and although his eyes were wide, the wildness was dying in them rapidly. “Yes, Captain.”

“One moment, Bones,” Jim called, ignoring the muffled grousing outside.  Spock stood and quickly started to reorder himself. “You okay?” Jim asked quietly, zipping up his pants.  He gave the other man a half smile, trying to hide his worry.  “Did I break you?”

Spock paused the rebuttoning of his uniform shirt for a moment.  “My life is more intense with you in it.”

There it was. No self admonition, no trying to shield Jim from the realities of Spock’s sometimes fragile hold on his intense emotions, just the simple truth.  Jim brightened.  “Well, I take that as a compliment.”

“I believe it is simply a universal constant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you gentle readers for your comments, kudos, and any flailing arms, squeeks of joy, or warm fuzzies, they are much treasured!


	33. In a Bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Sunshineditty, who wanted "Prime Spock, Spock, and Senik walk into a bar." So here is it. Kinda.

Spock stood awkwardly in the threshold of the San Francisco Interstellar Transport Center’s cantina looking for a familiar face in the crowd of travelers.  He gaze searched until he found his blonde human seated at a table, listening intently to the two Vulcans that Spock could identify immediately.  Instinctually the man registered Spock’s own recognition and blue eyes met his and Jim started to gesture him over to where they were seated.

“Elder Spock, tomasu Senik, live long and prosper,” Spock said formally.  “Jim, I hope I have not kept you waiting.”

“We were just trading stories while we waited,” Jim said, pulling out the seat next to him at the high top. Spock slid onto the stool and gratefully accepted the tea Jim had ordered him. “Their transport for the colony isn’t here yet for another hour.”

“Elder Spock, please continue your story,” Senik requested.  Jim nodded encouragingly, but Spock noticed the Elder’s eyes shift curiously to himself.

“I do not think my counterpart would appreciate the telling of this event,” he said.  Spock frowned, and quirked a questioning eyebrow at Jim.

“Old missions,” Jim answered. “He was about to tell us the one where he tried to kill the other me.”

Spock’s eyebrows shot up, but as he could not create a reply, he remained silent.

“What was the antecedent of this unusual behavior, Elder?” Senik inquired.

The Elder Spock took a long drink from his—was that a chocolate milkshake?—and cleared his throat dramatically.

“It was pon farr.”

Senik’s eyes became as round as saucers and he leaned forward a few centimeters, avid curiosity painted plainly on his face.

“I feel I must object—” Spock started, but was interrupted by Jim’s “What’s pon farr?”

“It is a time in every Vulcan’s life where the biological need to—”

“Again, I must object,” Spock said more firmly, glancing between Senik and Jim. 

“To what do you object do?” the elder asked placidly, sipping his drink idly as if he had not just been about to speak of one of the most taboo phenomena of Vulcan biology in a crowded bar.

“The venue,” Spock ground out. “This is not a subject I would wish to speak of in front of the… uninitiated.”

He was referring to Jim, of course, but Senik was the first to object.

“On the contrary, tomasu, I have already studied and accounted for the most common Human and Vulcan biological occurrences and predispositions, but as I could not account for hybrid physiology, Elder Spock’s report would be most—”

“ _What’s pon farr?_ ” Jim asked again.

“—data that is lacking in my matrimonial viability assessment,” Senik continued.

Spock was almost grateful to hear that, as it was enough to distract Jim.  “Senik…” Jim started, assuredly ready to censure the boy’s behavior.

“It’s not an experiment,” Senik defended himself primly.  “I have simply compiled general and easily obtainable information from xenopsychology and Star Fleet’s personnel information into a brief presentation.”

“Fascinating,” the elder commented.  “Perhaps I could review your presentation and provide the necessary data you require?”

The boy perked up. “I have come prepared,” he announced, digging out a portable projection unit and setting it up to display across the wall of the bar, inciting interest among the other patrons. “I have visual aids.”

\---

One minute into the presentation, Spock was ready to leave, but Jim had maneuvered his chair in such a way to block the only inconspicuous exit.  By minute three, he was ready to stand up and demand Senik cease his lecture, but both Jim and his elder counterpart had given him quelling looks, effectively silencing him.  But by minute six, he was calculating the best way catapult his tea onto the portable projection unit while making it appear accidental, putting an end to graph after graph of the feasibility of his potential connubial status with Jim.

“If only my Jim and I had the benefit of this youngling’s efforts,” the elder said regretfully as Senik reviewed offspring rearing practices among common types of Human family units. “I grieve for the little time we had.”

“He makes a good argument,” Jim muttered softly.

Spock’s respiratory system temporarily ceased functioning.  He had certainly considered the idea, numerous times.  More than considered it, he had researched the exact spot where his father and mother had pledged their betrothal on Earth and inquired as to the process of dual citizenship on Vulcan—when there had been a Vulcan—and had filed any and all commentary Jim had made about acquaintance’s nuptials (Vega5, overdone.  Bouquets, likely allergic.  Betazoid ceremonies, interesting.)  The drinking establishment (now lecture hall) in a transportation terminal was not the optimal setting Spock would have selected for this particular topic.  There should have been dinner, at least.  Dimmer lighting.  Music, perhaps.

No, Senik was not the only one who had compiled data on the subject.

Jim turned to look at him, an almost pitying look in his eyes. “Spock, it’s okay.”

“This is not acceptable,” he replied, unable to look back at the charts and graphs displayed upon the wall for all of the patrons to review.  “This is not how I wanted to broach the subject.”

“You need to wake up.”

Spock shook his head softly. Had he been delaying unnecessarily? “No, Jim, my eyes are open, and perhaps now is the best time to—”

“ _Wake up!_ ” Jim repeated, this time louder, startling him.  “ **WAKE UP SPOCK!** ”

Spock opened his eyes to see Jim peering above him in his bedroom, blue eyes almost glowing in the near dark.

“You were having a bad dream.”

Spock could not contradict the statement.  “I am well. Please, go back to sleep.”

“What was it about this time?”

Spock’s dreams—a new development since their tenuous link—was a constant source of fascination for Jim. He had a theory that Spock could pick up on fragments of the Human’s subconscious thoughts.  Mostly Spock dreamt of Vulcan, the Enterprise, and his mother.  Sometimes he dreamt of things he never saw or experienced, which gave some weight to Jim's suggestion.

“Senik was presenting a new study,” Spock replied.

Jim snorted.  "Well I was dreaming about milkshakes."  Spock tilted his head, recalling the dream.  Had Jim also been thinking about marriage?

“Please, go back to sleep.”

Jim yawned widely in response and turned back on his side, quickly returning to a deep slumber. When Spock was absolutely sure he was asleep, he slipped out of bed and padded to his dresser to find a certain black box.  As he looked at the box’s contents, Spock reflected on his own dreams, and another’s dreams, lost a lifetime ago in another universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle Readers, I thank thee kindly for reading.


	34. Really in a Bar

Senik stood awkwardly in the threshold of the San Francisco Interstellar Transport Center’s cantina looking for a familiar face in the crowd of travelers.  He gaze searched until he found his mother and uncle seated with an elderly Vulcan he could not immediately identify. He started to walk toward the table where his people were seated, almost being knocked down by a boisterous patron swinging his arms wide in exuberant discourse.

“Sorry, kid,” the Human apologized, much too loudly for the gentle roar of the bar, and continued his raucous tale with enthusiasm.

Senik paid them no mind, assured that despite their illogical natures, sensory deficiencies, and untoward behaviors, he found these Humans and their planet fascinating and was unlikely to find its equal when he left.

“Senik-kam,” T’Mae said in greeting, and extended her hand toward the elder Vulcan seated across the table, “This is Elder Spock.  He will be traveling with us to the Gamma post.”

Senik recognized the Elder as the guest of Ezyet Amanda’s funeral, the man who first suggested an unusual affinity—love— between Jim and Spock.  It was a memory that Senik had not reexamined, but now that he reflected upon it, Senik was compelled to observe the Vulcan’s subtle but unusual eye pigmentation and the shape of his nose, and immediately came to the correct conclusion.

“You _are_ Spock,” Senik replied, in lieu of greeting.

The Elder nodded, but said nothing more but rapidly closed and opened his left eye in a Terran non-verbal signal of camaraderie or a shared secret, Senik could not discern which. Perhaps the obvious implication of Elder Spock’s presence in an alternate universe was not meant for scientific inquiry.

T’Mae merely gestured for Senik to take the stool next to her, next to which three bags were packed for their journey to the colony.  As the first wave to settlers they had been advised to pack lightly but logically. The ships would be laden with most of the supplies and equipment necessary for their first six months alone on the planet, and then the next wave of settler would arrive.

Just as Senik took his seat, ready to inquire as to the elder’s designated occupation for the settlement, a voice spoke over his head.

“I have been informed your transport will be ready to be loaded within five minutes.”

Sarek stood and reached for his satchel.  “I had erroneously assumed you would be occupied with Starfleet business today,” he commented.

“We will see you off,” Spock replied, and swiftly relieved Senik of his satchel and made his way out of the cantina to their loading terminal without another word.

Senik was about to protest when a gravelly voice whispered, “It is tradition.”


	35. Farewell

Spock led them to the last terminal where a small queue had started to form of Vulcans, each carrying their nearly identical bags, speaking in quiet tones.  They only took a cursory notice of their group that had just entered.  Jim, also in his Starfleet uniform, was already waiting for them.  He was speaking cordially to the two wearing Vulcan Navigator and First Officer uniforms.  When he glanced over, he beamed at them, and quickly excused himself from the officers to join their group.

“You didn’t think we’d let you go without a proper goodbye, did you?” Jim asked.

As everyone else, except for one, in the group had become accustomed to the Human rhetorical question, T’Mae was the only one who answered.  “It is illogical to note the upcoming termination of our frequent proximity again, Captain Kirk.”

“But necessary,” Jim replied with a smile.  “And that which is necessary is never unwise.”  T’Mae, who was not prone to being charmed by another’s manners, unusually conceded the point.

“Captain Kirk, it was an honor. May you continue in peace and prosperity for the length of your life.  Farewell.” Jim returned her sentiment in passable Golic, and turned to say his farewells to Sarek.

T’Mae turned to Spock, and hesitated a moment.  “I shall always be indebted, al’tom’ot.  To care for mine when I could not, to take me into your home when I had none, these are acts of kindness and bravery most will never log in the records of history, but will never be forgotten in my memory.”  She looked back at Senik, waiting patiently in the back of the group. “Nor his, as he is better for knowing his cousin.”

“You are always welcome in my home,” Spock gently reminded her.

“You may expect us sooner than you may anticipate,” T’Mae reminded him.  “Senik has declared his intention to apply to the Academy. While you may not reside on Earth, he may yet join you on the Enterprise,” T’Mae said, a twinkle in her eye.

“That is ambitious endeavor,” Spock commented.  “However, his work has been characterized by enthusiastic and thoroughness, I would expect nothing but an exemplary application.”

“I am pleased by your assessment. I’ll send him to you in three years, then.”  Spock’s eyebrow shot up in surprise.  “Peace and long life,” she said and left a slightly dazed Spock in her wake. Sarek stepped forward, with what passed as a fond expression on his face.

“Farewell, son. I trust that your transition back to Starfleet will be smooth and you will conduct your position admirably.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I am pleased,” Sarek said and then glanced around the crowded terminal.  He leaned forward slightly, dropping his voice to a quiet tone. “And the other issue?”

Spock’s eyes widened slightly, glancing briefly at an oblivious Jim, who was listening with rapt attention to whatever his older counterpart was saying in insistent tones. “All matters in need of my attention will be resolved at the appropriate times.”

“As you say,” Sarek replied. “Farewell my son. Live long and prosper.”

Spock raised his hand to return his father’s own ta’al and watched him walk to the end of the queue to join T’Mae, but whirled around when he heard the words “ _and when he comes down with an unexpected fever, it would be wise to—”_ he sped to Jim’s side to interrupt the conversation.

It would be logical to have this conversation with Jim soon, even his subconscious had been telling him this.

“Ambassador,” Spock started, and reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black box. Both Elder Spock and Jim looked at it with some surprise.  “I could not have you go without returning this.”

His counterpart opened it and actually smiled at the contents.  Senik could not help but rise on his tiptoes to peer over his arm to see a metal locket with Golic scrolling that he could not quite discern. It either read “brother/lover” or “melted cheese.”

“As it has served its purpose, I could no longer justify keeping it,” Spock said to the elder, entrusting the contents of the locket were best left confidential until its owner wished to share it again.

“I entrust its message will continue to inspire you,” the other said, tracing a single finger across the locket, and quickly stowing the small box among his own robes. Spock nodded in agreement, thinking of another black box he safely stowed in the kitchen in a soup pot—the only place in his quarters he was more than 98.4 percent certain Jim would never look.

“I look forward to hearing of your adventures,” the elder said.

“And we, yours,” Spock replied. “Good luck,” he said, and shared a knowing look with his elder self, ignoring Jim’s snort of disbelief.

Both Jim and Spock turned in unison to face Senik, the last of the settlers.  Jim knelt on one knee, and Senik noted that this position no longer made them eye-to-eye, as he had grown six centimeters. Spock hovered next to Jim’s shoulder maintaining his formal posture.

“Do you require anything before you board?” Spock asked first.

Senik looked around the terminal. “This is an inopportune time to acquire any necessities, if I had,” which made Jim chuckle. 

“But you are ready?” Jim reiterated.  “You don’t need any sweaters or a care package or anything?”

“My needs will be adequately met in Gamma post, as highlighted by the settlement plan of the Vulcan Council.”

Jim’s eyes crinkled around the corners and he made to stand up.  “Well, I guess you’re grown up now and there’s no sense in worrying about you, is there?”

“To worry is illogical,” Senik agreed solemnly.

“Okay then.” Jim took a breath. “Fair warning, I want to hug you. Is that okay?”

Senik paused, considered the request, and tentatively nodded.  Jim wrapped both arms around skinny shoulders and was surprised to feel Senik’s arms reach around to reciprocate.  “Be safe, okay?” he whispered into the boy’s hair.  Darks eyes shot up to meet his and Senik dropped his arms.

“Captain Kirk, safety and health are paramount in any settlement expedition,” he announced, slightly affronted by Jim’s suggestion that Senik would do anything less than adhere to the highest safety regulation. “Twenty three percent of all deaths among interstellar colonists are preventable by simple adherence to rigging, transporter, and farming guidelines.”

“It is a common phrase said out of affection, and not an insinuation of poor personal safety standards,” Spock explained gently.

“I understand,” Senik said. “Rest assured, Captain Kirk, I shall uphold all recommended practices for safety procedures at all times.”

Jim failed at smothering a grin. “I would expect nothing less.”

Senik turned to Spock. “I encourage you to demonstrate the highest standards of safety in your conduct as well, tomasu.”

“I consider it my chief duty,” Spock replied solemnly.  “In turn, I encourage you to find passion and wisdom in all of your endeavors.”

He raised his hand to briefly brush the boy’s hair in an acceptable gesture of affection and was caught off guard when the boy lurched forward and wrapped his arms around his waist in a Human hug.  He returned the gesture, ignoring the curious looks they were receiving from the queued Vulcans.

“Thank you,” Senik whispered, so softly that Spock almost did not hear it.

“You are always welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three small chapters left (needed to be gently tweaked), and it's the end! Gentle readers, thank you for reading.


	36. We've never said it

Jim and Spock walked back through the terminal toward the transports that would take them back to their office in the hangar.

“When we get back, I’d like to discuss the sensor array specs.  We’ve got an interesting survey in our first mission into the Tau quadrant, I’d like to know how much data we’d be able to get from… what was that planet again?”

“Nibiru,” Spock supplied.

“It’s a geological wonderland, judging by the initial survey, wait until you see the tectonic plate configuration, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jim enthused, slightly surprised when Spock didn’t get mushy and doe-eyed like he normally did when Jim became impassioned about geology.  “Something wrong?”

“No,” Spock started, then amended, “I have an inquiry about your exchanges with my counterpart.” Jim shrugged, so Spock continued. “What had he shared with you about his life with his own Jim Kirk?”

“Nothing specific,” Jim thought back and frowned.  “I get the impression he had a lot of regrets when it came to him, like they had too little time. But I think he really loved his Jim,” he said, and then alarmed, started to back track “Not that you don’t, I mean, I know you feel—that is, you’ve always been—”

Spock stopped walking and turned to face the man.

“Jim, I know I have not spoke of it aloud, but,” he glanced around, wary of the uncaring busying travelers walking past, and lowered his voice, “I love you.  If you suspected that I felt anything less, then you have been mistaken.”

All of the air rushed out of Jim’s lungs while simultaneously he felt like his chest would burst. He must have looked upset or ill, because Spock firmly ushered him the side so passengers would stop walking around them.

“Did you not know of my feelings?” Spock looked vaguely upset at the idea.

Jim laughed. “I knew, of course I knew, but we’d never said…” Not once, and Jim had rationalized that it didn’t need to be said, but now that he heard the words, it did make some difference. At the very least, it was nice to hear. “I love you, too.”

Which was the wrong thing to say, judging Spock’s perturbed expression.  He furtively looked around their surroundings, even looked up to the ceiling as if judging the lighting, and sighed.  “Jim, we should revisit this conversation at another, mutually agreeable, time.”

“Oh?”  His puzzled expression bloomed into cheeky smile. “Can’t interest you in some terminal bathroom fooling around?”

“No.”

Jim sighed at Spock’s predictable answer.  “Once day you’ll finally take me up on it.  Just think, there are so many things we have to look forward to.  I’ve never joined the Warp 9 club.”

“I am not aware of such an association.”

“You can only join if you’ve had sex while on a ship going at least—”

“As the Enterprise would only be at such a speed if there was an urgent mission or dangerous event, it is unlikely we would likely be engaging in… relations.”

Jim scoffed. “Dangerous events, urgent missions, our lives in peril, you’re saying that doesn’t do anything for you?”

Jim waited expectantly, but Spock did not comment. 

“We are totally going to join.”


	37. Miss

Senik stowed his belongings in the efficient cabin and left to survey the ship. Within minutes he found a small bench wedged between two bulkheads and settled down with his PADD to read the latest geographical survey of the colony.  He was along in the area but within a couple minutes Elder Spock entered took the seat next to him, although there were many other seating options open. The other had his hands clasped in his lap and gazed directly forward, out of the window.  Senik surreptitiously looked out the window to see Earth shrinking in the distance as they moved away for a safe distance to warp toward New Vulcan, and then turned back to his reading when the blue and green orb was no longer discernable.

He had been half way through the mineral inventory when Elder Spock finally spoke.

“Will you miss them?” he asked.  Senik looked up from his PADD to see the elder looking out the window as well with a somewhat wistful expression.  In was unnecessary to inquire as to whom he referred.

“To yearn to be among people in a place I have chosen not to be is both illogical and fosters discontent with one’s current situation.”

“I believe one can be content, yet hold regret for another’s absence. It is not so paradoxical,” he replied.

Senik nodded once, and the elder resumed gazing out of the window, lost in thought, as Jim would say.  Just when he expected Spock’s counterpart to remain silent and cease his unproductive queries, he spoke up again.  “I have heard that you have spent much time studying sentient behavior and relationships on Earth. Your mother describes you as a promising young scientist.  Tell me, youngling, what do you predict as the outcome of their partnership?”

He considered the question, starting to tabulate and analyze what he knew of interstellar politics, Starfleet policy, and trends in starship travel, but ceased mid-calculation to reevaluate the data he had gathered thus far. “I suspect they will accomplish the improbable and redefine the impossible.”

The other Vulcan raised a single eyebrow in a so familiar expression that Senik felt oddly comforted.  “How did you come to such a conclusion?”

“It is my subjective assessment.”


	38. Epilogue: Seeing you off

**Many years later...**

 

There were several rules in the House of Spock.

Birthdays were celebrated, but conical hats were dispensed with.  After The Incident of 2262, chocolate cake was also prohibited, but if anyone noticed that Spock had a particular weakness for carrot cake once a year, it wasn’t mentioned aloud.

Anyone was welcome to cook in the kitchen, with the exception of Jim.

Fortune cookies were served every Thanksgiving.  One year Senik created an algorithm that he felt was most likely to reflect an upcoming event, which was inserted into every fortune cookie thereafter.  Every year Jim's fortune mentioned whales.

They would continue to participate in the ritualistic “seeing you off.”  If asked, Spock would say it was a tradition held by his mother that was worth keeping.  Jim would say it was because Spock was sentimental and hated goodbyes.

It was this reason they had assembled in the transporter room of the Enterprise, flanked by officers who had become family.

Senik had managed to get a few days leave when he had heard the news, and Jim was grateful for it. Vulcans didn’t emote grief the way Humans did, but Jim knew he would be better for being on the Enterprise among people who would understand they loss they had suffered.

They had asked Jim to give the eulogy, but that morning he woke up he realized he just couldn’t. Thankfully he didn’t have to explain, Senik seem to know and volunteered.

The Vulcan approached the dais and faced the gathered group of Starfleet officers and Vulcan dignitaries, his somber face held a dignity of adulthood that was somewhat jarring to see on the boy Jim remembered.

“We are gathered to honor someone that has been admired and respected by all who knew him. Spock would not appreciate eulogizing,” Senik said solemnly, his voice now a deep timbre of a grown man. “Nor would he condone mourning, as it is illogical and promotes inefficiency.”  That got a wet chuckle out of the crew, which both startled Senik, who as a rule did not attempt humor, and made Jim smile for the first time in what seemed like days.  “However, I believe he would approve of a simple reminder of the of his life and its worth.

“The people he met were better for his acquaintance, his work and mission more successful for his part in them, and he left a family that cherished and loved him, and he returned that love.  He understood what it was to love.  As a person of science he would remind us that these things are immeasurable, but more so they are of notable importance and an excellent reminder of a life that is an example to us all and the immeasurable potential within all of us.”

Jim wiped his eyes on the back of his hand while Bones gripped his shoulder in commiseration.

“So it is with not with sorrow, but with appreciation and a renewed sense of purpose we commit Spock here, among the stars, his chosen resting place,” Senik finished, stepping down from the podium.

With a nod from Jim, Scotty energized the transporter pad.  Jim forced himself to watch the pod containing Spock disappear into nothingness. Jim stood for several minutes, long after most of the assembled moved out of the transporter room to the reception in the mess hall.

“You did well,” Jim said, when Senik sidled up to him.  “He would have approved of your words, I think.”

Senik nodded gratefully. He picked up an unassuming box polycrystalline box that held the last of Spock—his katra.

Jim wondered, not for the first time, if there were answers in the box for him.  “When he agreed to join the Enterprise, I didn’t realize how little time we would have with him.”

Senik blinked at Jim in silence, as if unsure how to answer.

“He knew.”

Jim looked up to where Spock—his Spock, was standing.  Since Elder Spock’s death he had been oddly quiet within their bond, but Jim had learned over the years when and when not to question and probe, and this one was of those times.

“For a brief moment, before I transferred his katra to the Katric ark, there was a moment of clarity.” Spock gestured to the room around them. “The Enterprise was as close to home as he would ever be in this universe.”  Spock glanced around the room, now certain it was just he, Jim, and Senik, he reached out and tenderly wiped away the last of Jim’s tears. “He did not wish to burden you with the knowledge of his eminent passing, and it was his pleasure to help in our mission to Romulus one last time and to see the ship and her crew. It was as if observing the days of his youth once more.”

 _Kaiidth_ , is surely what both Spocks would say. _It’s how I would want to go_ , Jim thought, and the bittersweet knowledge of the Vulcan’s last request allowed Jim some peace. “Let’s go mingle, I’m sure the New Vulcan High Minister is just dying to know when we’re going to finally retire and make that splendid vacation home on New Vulcan.”

Spock rolled his eyes—or at least his own approximation.  “Minister T’Lo has no such curiosity of our future plans.”  Spock withdrew a small locket, a parting gift, one Jim had not seen in many, many years. “In any case, I believe we have received sound advice against retiring.”

The three, with Senik holding the katric ark, were the last to exit the transporter room.  While Jim and Spock turned left, Senik halted, and looked to Jim inquiringly.

“With your permission, Captain, I would escort Ambassador Spock’s katra to New Vulcan.”

“That takes you in the wrong direction of Andor,” Jim observed.

“I will see him off,” Senik explained, cradling the box closer to him.  “It is family tradition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, gentle readers, the end. For those who have stuck through all this time, I appreciate your readership and sharing the experience with me. This was a hard story to wrap up.
> 
> Trilogy? Definitely, we have a bit of unfinished business, but I am committed to sharing it when it is completely done, I don't want readers to have to wait so long on bits and pieces of whatever Spock could be hiding in his soup pot.
> 
> Personal note: At the time that I'm posting the last chapter of my seventh work, it's almost a year to the day I shared my first story ever (Logical Match). That was a really big deal for me. It's been a year full of awesome changes and personal growth, and if you've been a reader and left a comment, you have been a part of that, so thank you. Fortune cookies for everyone! :-) walkandtalk


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